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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24351016">Reset</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FabulousPotatoSister/pseuds/FabulousPotatoSister'>FabulousPotatoSister</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Declarations Of Love, F/M, Fluff, Kissing, Mind Manipulation, Not Beta Read, Reader-Insert, Simulation, Villians Who Love The Drama</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:42:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>21,475</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24351016</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FabulousPotatoSister/pseuds/FabulousPotatoSister</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Darling, wake up.”</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>You groan and squeeze your eyes shut, clumsy fingers grabbing at your blanket to pull the fuzzy thing over your eyes. The blankets smell good today. You’ve always used the same detergent, and it’s never failed you. Your brain is protesting, but your mouth hasn’t quite caught up yet, so all you do is mumble into your blanket, your mumbling roughly translating to “Five more minutes, please?”</i></p><p> </p><p>You're happy. You're content. You're married to the best man in the world, John Smith. You wouldn't want anything else, right? <i>Right?</i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eleventh Doctor/Reader, The Doctor (Doctor Who)/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>126</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Darling</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/4407521">What's In A Dream? || 11th! Doctor X Reader</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnighteclipse/pseuds/midnighteclipse">midnighteclipse</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Whoa, Eleven x Reader fanfiction in the year of our Lord 2020? More likely than you think.</p><p>I meant to finish the original version of this fic years ago, and then the Thirteenth Doctor came along and... well, we all know what happened. I was also just going to update the fic with a whole new chapter, but I decided to rewrite the whole thing since I wrote the first draft in 2015. Then I posted it in 2018 to see if anyone would read it, and then proceeded to abandon it for two years.</p><p>This fic is inspired by the episode "Amy's Choice", and, of course, "What's In a Dream?" by midnighteclipses. It's still one of my favorite DW reader-insert fics out there, and the first one I read a long long time ago. </p><p>I hope you enjoy this!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Darling, wake up.”</p><p> </p><p>You groan and squeeze your eyes shut, clumsy fingers grabbing at your blanket to pull the fuzzy thing over your eyes. The blankets smell good today. You’ve always used the same detergent, and it’s never failed you. Your brain is protesting, but your mouth hasn’t quite caught up yet, so all you do is mumble into your blanket, your mumbling roughly translating to “Five more minutes, please?”</p><p> </p><p>“Love. Sweetie. Dear. Don’t make me pull out ‘sweetheart’, I know how much you hate it.” You hear a long, dramatic sigh, and you feel a weight sink into the mattress. The weight shifts, and you feel hands splayed out on top of the blanket, threatening to pull it away and rob you of some good, extra sleep. “Please wake up.”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” you whine, vainly hoping that you’ll sink into the blankets and fall asleep before the idea of waking up becomes too tempting. It is getting a little hot... “Leave me alone.”</p><p> </p><p>Another sigh. “You asked for it.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, no -!”</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, the blanket’s yanked away - you wince at the bright light that filters through the room, and when your vision clears, you see your husband, John.</p><p> </p><p>He smiles at you, and it’s brilliant. His hair is sticking out at ridiculous angles and yet he is still stunning, big beautiful green eyes shining in the light of the rising sun. “Hi,” he breathes out, and all you can think is that you have never felt so lucky in your entire life.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi.” You smile back, and his smile grows wider. “Good morning.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good morning to you too,” he says softly, reaching out to brush your hair from your forehead. “I was starting to wonder if you would ever wake up.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sleep is good.” You raise your eyebrows and push yourself up into a sitting position - John moves to sit closer to you, his hand falling from your temple and into your lap. He wraps his hand around yours. “It’s an escape.”</p><p> </p><p>“What, an escape from me? Am I <em>that</em> insufferable?” John lifts your hand to his mouth, laughing slightly. He presses his lips lightly to the inside of your palm, and butterflies erupt in your stomach. He slowly lifts his eyes to meet yours, mischief behind them, and suddenly you’re a schoolgirl with a crush, your heart racing at a simple kiss. “Well?”</p><p> </p><p><em>Well, that wasn’t fair. </em>“Are you trying something?”</p><p> </p><p>John doesn’t move, but you know he’s hidden his smirk behind your hand - “Is it working?”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you want me to tell you the truth?”</p><p> </p><p>Oh, he’s definitely smirking now. “Of course.”</p><p> </p><p>“You are a big flirt.” You pull your hand away with a laugh. John had always been mischievous, his affection expressed in teasing touches and words. “Is something up? What’s the occasion?”</p><p> </p><p>“The occasion? There’s no occasion,” John says, and then his smile falls. You can see the gears in his head turning as he lifts his gaze to the sky, his lips open slightly in thought - and then, like nothing, he smiles again. “Although something is up. Close your eyes.”</p><p> </p><p>“What, now?” You giggle, doing as you’re told.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, now,” John says. You feel him cup your face in his hands, and feel his lips on your forehead, and you catch the faint smell of pancake mix and blueberries amongst his distinctive smell. “I had to hurry before you got grumpy, and so there’s a bit of a mess in the kitchen, I’m really sorry -”</p><p> </p><p>"I don't get grumpy!"</p><p> </p><p>"Right, right…"</p><p> </p><p>You feel him get off the bed and leave the room, his footsteps growing softer as he walks away. Distantly, there’s the clinking of plates and utensils, something being poured into a glass, and something muttered that you’re sure is a swear -</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, you can open your eyes now.”</p><p> </p><p>You do, and you can barely keep your jaw from falling open - laid out in front of you is a breakfast feast. Pancakes, perfectly stacked pancakes drizzled with just the right amount of syrup, dotted with the color of blueberries, and a steaming cup of coffee right beside it. The room smells amazing now, and you feel amazing. All you can do is stare incredulously at the meal laid out in front of you.</p><p> </p><p>“Surprise!”</p><p> </p><p>You look up at John, your mouth still wide open - he hands you a fork and smiles sheepishly, placing his hands behind his back. Standing in front of you, you finally notice the flour stains on his arms, and the bits of batter on his shirt. Shaking your head, you blink away tears.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh no, don’t cry,” John says, quickly reaching forward to take your face in his hands again. He strokes your cheek with his thumb and you bask in the warmth of his touch - you are so lucky to have someone like him in your life. Forever. “I just wanted to make you breakfast.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, but - this is so nice, I can’t -” You reach up and hold his wrists. “Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, you deserve to have nice things.” John exhales, looking up at the ceiling before pressing his forehead to yours. “Someone as beautiful as you deserves to have nice things.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, don’t start,” you complain, but John just laughs and presses a chaste kiss to your lips. You, with your bedhead and your chapped lips and your sleepy face, beautiful. You weren’t really complaining at all. There’s a buzzing noise from the nightstand on the other side of the bed - “Hey, I think that’s your phone.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t have a phone,” John says innocently.</p><p> </p><p>“You have a phone, and you have work,” you counter. You realize you’re winning when he lets go of your face and rolls onto the other side of the bed to check his phone.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to be late!” you hear him gasp, and you bark out a laugh - John turns to face you, scandalized, his face pale. “This is no time to be laughing at my misery!”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s the perfect time to be laughing at your misery.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry, I got carried away making breakfast -” John scrambles off the bed, rushing to the closet and pulling out a coat. He switches between the closet and the full-length mirror propped up beside it, running his hands through his hair and adjusting his coat. “Bon appetit! Enjoy your pancakes, sweetheart, I’ve got to -”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait!” you cry out, stopping him in his tracks. “Wait. C’mere, I’m not letting you leave without a hug from me.”</p><p> </p><p>“But of course,” he says, quickly walking to you and leaning down so he can wrap your arms around you. You press kisses to his neck, his jaw, and finally his lips, attacking him with affection as a small “thank you” for the breakfast. It’s the least you can do for your lovely husband, the perfect man that you’ve somehow managed to snag from everyone else. How did you even manage that?</p><p> </p><p>“I won’t keep you,” you whisper, and he pulls away. “Go, you clever boy!”</p><p> </p><p>John beams at you and rushes out of the room - you hear the front door slam not long after. You settle into your pillows and pick at your pancakes; they taste divine, of course, and you sit on your bed silently eating your pancakes while enjoying the sound of distant birdsong. Chewing on a particularly syrupy piece of fluffy pancake you remember that you’ll have to clean up the “mess” John mentioned earlier, and you smile, having a plan already set for the day.</p><p> </p><p>You spring to your feet with a renewed sense of vigor, gathering up your empty plate and mug, and carrying them into the kitchen. You smooth your gloved hands over your apron and get to work washing all the plates left in the sink - and then you frown. You don’t remember when you got dressed, or when you put those gloves on, and what you ate last night. The thought passes quickly before you shake your head and continue scrubbing at an already spotless plate.</p><p> </p><p>You dry off the last of the plates, placing it neatly onto a metal rack before grabbing a broom and sweeping the floor - you’d narrowly avoided choosing carpet as your flooring when you were renovating, before John had swooped in and saved the day by picking out some classic floorboards.</p><p> </p><p>The dust and lint gathers into a pile in the corner, and you lean on your broom, admiring your home.</p><p> </p><p>You were lucky to have bought such a nice house. It wasn’t too big, but had enough space for you to be able to decorate and plan for the future. Very lucky indeed...</p><p> </p><p>There’s a “photo wall” near the kitchen that you like to look at. It’s sparse, but there are a lot of mementos there to remind you of the important things. Among the usual decorative pictures of forests and gardens there are pictures of you and John - pictures of the two of you at your wedding, posing and laughing and drinking with friends. Wasn’t your dress frilly that day? Or was it loose? Wasn’t your hair in a bun? John didn’t wear a bowtie, you think...</p><p> </p><p>You squint at the photos. Your gaze is drawn to one of the wedding pictures, one from the reception where you’re standing with all your bridesmaids. You’re drinking and laughing, holding a champagne flute in your hand, but you can’t make out the bridesmaids faces. They’re fuzzy, and where are their mouths? Their eyes? The photo blurs like the photographer taking it had moved his hand while trying to take the shot.</p><p> </p><p>Your grip on your broom tightens. It feels like years and years ago, and the details escape you now.</p><p> </p><p>You shouldn’t focus on those things. You’re happy here, with John - but maybe you should go find your bridesmaids, it’s been so long since you’ve last seen them. What were their names again? You’re sure Jenny was one... but you don’t know a “Jenny”.</p><p> </p><p>You can feel your nails digging into the broom’s wooden handle now, threatening to leave crescent-shaped marks into its surface. The details escape you, <em>now</em>.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>And the details don’t matter.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>You sweep quickly, the pile of lint and dust and pieces of wood growing steadily bigger. Soon enough the house will be spotless again, and John will come back from work and you’ll kiss him until you have to clean the house again.</p><p> </p><p><em>That’s my life</em>, whispers the voice in the back of your head, and you believe it. <em>I am happy. I am content.</em></p><p> </p><p>“I am happy,” you mutter as you place the broom down, letting in lean against the side of one of the kitchen counters. The pile of dust is gone, you swept it out of the door. You walk towards the living room, the soft surface of the sofa beckoning you to lay on it and just take a nap. Forget about all the racing thoughts in your mind. You said sleep was an escape, and you have to escape now. "I am content."</p><p> </p><p>But your feet take you somewhere else. You lead yourself down the hallways, away from the living room, and now you’re standing in front of a beautifully painted blue door.</p><p> </p><p>You don’t recognize the door, but it’s familiar. Your brain helpfully supplies it as the laundry room, which is always clean and doesn’t need cleaning ever, but you’re drawn to how faded it is. You lift your hand and drag your fingers across its surfaces. You feel old paint and memories behind this door, and you don’t have to open it.</p><p> </p><p>Your fingers inch closer and closer to the doorknob and <em>you don’t need to open it</em> -</p><p> </p><p>The door swings open slowly with a soft creak. It’s pitch-black in there. You feel a soft breeze against your face - you take a small step inside, clinging to the doorway, squinting through the darkness. The darkness almost feels solid, like a barrier, keeping you out.</p><p> </p><p><em>Or</em>, you think as you spot a flickering flashlight on the floor, <em>it’s keeping something in. </em></p><p> </p><p>You pick up the flashlight, tapping it a few times until its flickering stops. Your fingers curl around its sleek metal handle. You wave it around, watching it cut through the darkness to reveal -</p><p> </p><p>The flashlight clatters to the ground. <em>Writing</em>. Words, scrawled all over the walls in your handwriting, frenzied rambling trailing from the walls to the ceiling. <em>Don’t forget, try not to forget</em>. Among the crazed writing are drawings, messy sketches of you and John together in places you don’t recognize. Arrows pointing to John labeled “<em>Doctor, Doctor</em>”.</p><p> </p><p>“No, no, no...” You feel weak, you feel wrong. This can’t be real. It’s not real. <em>Where am I? Who am I?</em></p><p> </p><p>And etched into the wall right in front of you, surrounded by your name: <em>Remember who you are.</em></p><p> </p><p>You blink, breathing heavily, and you’re outside. The door was never open. The door was never there. You trace your fingers against the wall, and it just feels like a wall. It’s just a wall. A wall with some really nice wallpaper, wallpaper that you picked out not long before the wedding. You agreed on flowers, because they were nice to look at - didn’t you agree on stripes?</p><p> </p><p>You keep blinking. You can still see its silhouette in the split second where your eyes haven’t fully closed yet, and when they’re not fully open.</p><p> </p><p>But there was a door. You could have sworn there was a door there, it led to the laundry room - you feel all over the wall and find the place where the doorknob should be, and you feel something solid but see nothing. What the hell is going on –</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Darling, I’m home!”</p><p> </p><p>John’s voice rings out from behind you and you suck in a breath, whipping around to see him come in through the front door. The sun’s already set. Darling. He’s never really called you darling, hasn’t he? You take in a shaky breath, and call back - “Yes, honey?”</p><p> </p><p>John lifts his arms for a hug, grinning brightly and dressed in completely different clothes from when he left. “Where’s my lovely wife?”</p><p> </p><p>My lovely wife, I was never your lovely wife, but you rush into his arms anyway. He stumbles back at the force of your embrace, slowly wrapping his arms around you and patting your hair. This is comfort you’re used to, but not in this context. And now all the things he did this morning seem so different - “Hey - what’s wrong? Are you okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m-” Not sure about who I am. John’s hold loosens on you slightly, and he leans away from you to look into your eyes. “I think something’s wrong.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, nothing’s wrong, nothing’s ever been wrong,” John says. But everything is wrong - how is he not getting it? “But tell me.”</p><p> </p><p>“The laundry room,” you mumble, even though that place was definitely not the laundry room. John’s eyebrows furrow slightly.</p><p> </p><p>“We’ve never had a laundry room.” He looks over your shoulder at the place that’s just a wall, and frowns. “Are you sure you’re alright?”</p><p> </p><p>“But - there was a door there,” you say, wrenching yourself away from John’s arms and walking to the wall. The wallpaper flickers between flowers and stripes. You feel against the wall until you hit something solid, something round. “There’s a door here right now.”</p><p> </p><p>John squints. “I don’t see it.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Look</em>,” you stress. You grab his hand and place it on the doorknob, and when you look up the door is back, beautiful and blue and now you know what it reminds you of. “Open the door.”</p><p> </p><p>“Darling, I don’t -”</p><p> </p><p>“Stop calling me darling and open the door, <em>Doctor</em>!” you snap, and John pulls his hand away from the doorknob, his mouth hanging open in shock.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s not my name,” he insists. “You’re not feeling well.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m feeling very well, thank you very much,” you grumble. Remember who you are. “Please, just open the door. For me.”</p><p> </p><p>John - but also not John - stares at you, his mouth set in a hard line. You recognize that look and you recognize him, who he really is, and he’s not your husband. After a moment, he sighs, places his hand on the doorknob, and twists it, flinging the door open.</p><p> </p><p>The room is illuminated now, all of the scratched writing clear to see - Remember, you have to remember who you are. There are so many more sketches now, and they blur and shift right in front of your eyes. You’re all in places you recognize - Starship UK, ancient Egypt, the planet of the Gargotins. You grab John’s hand and lead him to one of the sketches on the wall.</p><p> </p><p>“I remember this,” John mumbles. He presses his hands to the wall. “This was a dream I had. You and me together at the end of the world.”</p><p> </p><p>“When?” you ask.</p><p> </p><p>“L-last night,” he replies. You grab the front of his shirt and he gasps.</p><p> </p><p>“Then what did we do last night?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t remember.”</p><p> </p><p>The whole dream shatters when you find one, tiny, hairline crack in the illusion. There was never a “last night”. “You don’t remember or <em>you don’t know</em>?!”</p><p> </p><p>John opens his mouth to say something, but then he closes it, deep in thought. You can see the gears turning in his head - just like the morning, when nothing was wrong and everything was perfect and he was your husband - but they’re turning too slowly, which isn’t like who he really is. The room starts to darken, the writing that’s brought you back fading away. You’re running out of <em>time</em>.</p><p> </p><p>You grip his shirt tighter and shake him. “You need to remember! Who you really are - it’s got to be locked in your big brain somewhere! You’re not John Smith, you’re not my husband, you’re The Doctor!”</p><p> </p><p>“The - the Doctor…” he stammers, raising his hands to his head, his eyes widening in realization.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, that’s you! Two thousand years old! An alien! Come on!”</p><p> </p><p>“The Doctor - I am the Doctor!” Suddenly, the Doctor grins and grabs you by the shoulders, pulling you into a tight hug. He laughs, his arms wrapped around you, squeezing you slightly before he lets go. “Oh, it feels good to be me again. Hair - good. Eyes - still got ‘em. Bowtie -” His hand shoots up to his collar. He frowns when he doesn’t feel anything there - “Could be worse.”</p><p> </p><p>“Doctor, where are we?”</p><p> </p><p>“Dunno. I can’t tell if it’s a simulation or an actual set. If it’s a simulation, then it’s not a good one.” The Doctor whirls around, examining the walls. He lifts his hand to place it in his jacket, looking for his sonic - then he groans when he realizes he was never wearing a jacket. “Empty pockets!”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, again?”</p><p> </p><p>The entire room shakes and you stumble - the voice sounds like it’s coming from everywhere without a clear source, and it also sounds vaguely annoyed. The Doctor quickly grabs your hand and squeezes it tight in silent comfort, and now you wish he hadn’t done all of those things in the morning. You glance at his serious face and silently thank whatever gods are out there that he hasn’t mentioned any of it, at all.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“Marlene. Marlene!”</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>There’s another voice, timid and shy. <em>“Yes, ma’am?”</em></p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“Subjects 11A and 11B have escaped immersion. Again. For the fifth time this cycle. Did you forget to intensify their wipes?”</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“No, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“They’re awake now, so they’re no use to us. Reset them and -”</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>“WAIT!” Your plea comes out louder than expected. The Doctor glances at you, and when you meet his gaze, confusion and concern swim in his eyes. “At least tell us what’s going on!”</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“Sorry, 11B, but that’s classified information. You should know, you’ve asked me this before.”</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>“Well, it would do us a world of good if we knew!” the Doctor says loudly. “Who are you?”</p><p> </p><p><strong>“I’ll say it again. Classified information.”</strong> There’s a spitting sound, and then another laugh. <strong>“I don’t have time for this.”</strong></p><p> </p><p>“Well then make time!” you shout, and the Doctor pulls you closer to him.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“Oh, 11A, or should I say the Doctor. Not so ‘Oncoming Storm’ now, are you? Do you want me to tell you what happens to your poor little companion if you keep going like this? Or do you want a demonstration?”</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>“What it’s talking about?” You look up at the Doctor. His eyes are trained on the ceiling, and they’re burning with anger.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know. Keep quiet,” he mutters. Then, raising his voice again, “We’ll keep trying! We’ll keep trying to get out!”</p><p> </p><p>You hear a deep chuckle<strong>. “Then good luck. Reset them.”</strong></p><p> </p><p>A wave of exhaustion passes over you, and through your haze you reach out for the Doctor - you still have to keep him safe -</p><p> </p><p>You’re out before you even hit the floor, the Doctor’s hand still wrapped in yours.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Day Out</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You and John have a day out. This should be fun!</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, and welcome to chapter two! I hope you're all having a wonderful day/night, where ever you are.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Birdsong. Today, you wake up to birdsong.</p><p> </p><p>The curtains are still drawn, sunlight filtering through the gauzy material, casting the whole room in a soft light only reserved for soft moments on television. You roll over and inhale the smell of vanilla and roses - you made a very good choice shopping for detergents the other day. Some of them smell too much like chemicals to be real.</p><p> </p><p>John’s sleeping next to you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him sleep so deeply - dressed in a simple button up shirt and comfy pajama pants, he looks more peaceful than he usually does on a daily basis. It’s a good look on him. You smile and sling an arm over his waist, grimacing when he shifts in his sleep.</p><p> </p><p>John shifts again, mumbling something in a language you don’t recognize. You’d have to ask him about it later, when he was more awake - now, you were doing something nice for him. John didn’t like sleeping in, he liked to be up bright and early. If he was sleeping in today, he must have been busy last night. What was he even doing last night?</p><p> </p><p>You watch him breathe deeply, looking at the way his hair falls over his face because he never bothers to comb it. His lips are parted slightly and he just looks so <em>young</em> like this. You reach out to cup his cheek; John melts into your touch, his sleepy self apparently still capable of handling affection, and you hold back a laugh. His lips quirk up into the smallest of smiles when you stroke his cheek.</p><p> </p><p>You try to memorize the features of his face - when your gaze falls onto his closed eyes, you frown. He’s asleep, and resting, but his eyes look darker. Tired, somehow. You smile sadly. He’s always so busy...</p><p> </p><p>You suck in a breath when he peers up at you, glazed, sleepy eyes partially hidden behind a head of messy brown hair. You wince when you hear him mumble something under his breath, confused.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi,” you whisper, moving your hand up to tangle it in his hair, “sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”</p><p> </p><p>“S’okay,” John mumbles, still groggy. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes. “Good morning.”</p><p> </p><p>It comes out more like a question, and you laugh. “Good morning to you too.”</p><p> </p><p>John hums, and you settle into a comfortable silence. When you pull at him slightly, tugging at his shirt to bring him closer to you, he doesn’t pull away. He rests his head in the crook of your neck and you giggle when you feel his breath tickle your neck.</p><p> </p><p>“Sweet dreams?” you ask, still keeping your voice low, and he shakes his head.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I think so.” He presses his lips to your neck and doesn’t move away. “Did I snore?”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you even snore?” You laugh, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “I don’t think so.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t lie.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’d know if I was lying, sweetheart.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s moments like this where you realize how lucky you are to be here with him. And that you have to remember to always be grateful, because this is your life forever. Lying with him of the softest bed you’ve ever own, just under the covers, hidden from the world. Nothing is wrong, you think. This is perfect, he is perfect, and nothing has ever been wrong. You’re sure about that.</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve gotten awfully quiet,” you say, daring to raise your voice just a little higher, just like how the sun is rising a little higher too. You don’t want to get out of bed yet, though, so you squeeze John a little tighter. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen asleep on me.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s tempting,” John whispers, lifting his head to look at you. The soft light grows brighter, illuminating his pretty face and that boyish smile that you love so much. “But I could be looking at you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t make me blush.” But you are blushing. You hold John’s gaze and hope that he doesn’t see the way your cheeks must be darkening. “I mean it! You could have work today.”</p><p> </p><p>John raises his eyebrows. “You’re in for a surprise then.”</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s my day off,” John supplies, grinning brightly. Something whispers in the back of your mind.</p><p> </p><p>You frown at him. “And you didn’t mention this to me yesterday because..?”</p><p> </p><p>“Surprise!” John says brightly, tapping the side of your nose with his finger.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Close your eyes - Surprise!”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Your frown deepens - <em>surprise</em>, now why did that sound so familiar? You try to dig through your memories to find out why it sounds so familiar, but your mind feels foggy... and blurry. Like flying through a cloud and getting turbulence. Maybe it’s too early to think about that.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey,” John says softly, peering into your eyes, his brows furrowed in concern, “Are you alright?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Are you sure you’re alright? You’re not feeling well.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Definitely too early to think about it.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>You shake your head and plaster a smile onto your face. “I’m - yeah. Everything’s fine<em>.” Move the conversation away. This isn’t where this is supposed to go -</em> “How did you get a day off?”</p><p> </p><p>John almost looks offended, pouting at you like a big child. “Are you doubting my abilities? The hard work I’ve done? Who are you and what have you done with my wife?”</p><p> </p><p><em>Your wife... your lovely wife</em>... You’re still smiling. You pat his cheek affectionately even though he’s still looking at you with an exaggerated mix of disgust and horror. “Your wife is right here,” you say, but it feels a lot like a lie, and it shouldn’t feel like a lie because you’re <em>married</em>, aren’t you? You are his wife. “And she’s asking you what you’re going to do with your day off.”</p><p> </p><p>“All the time in the universe,” John hums. You nod excitedly. “Well, I did have some plans.”</p><p> </p><p>“Plans?” You lean closer to him. He snuggles up to you, draping an arm over your waist. “Now I’m interested.”</p><p> </p><p>“D’you remember our first date?”</p><p> </p><p>You pause at that. You try to go looking in your brain again, but the fog is still there, keeping you out from things you probably should be knowing - there’s nothing about a first date, and when you look even further, nothing about a wedding either. Your head is starting to hurt a little, a dull ache between your temples. Like a threat. “No.”</p><p> </p><p>“No?” John’s eyes widen. “Blimey. You don’t remember? Linda’s diner. You ordered us milkshakes.”</p><p> </p><p>“I... did?”</p><p> </p><p>For a moment, you wonder what’s wrong with him. You keep looking, you keep trying to go back, but there’s nothing there. <em>Why don’t I remember</em> - A jolt of electricity runs down your spine, like static electricity? The dull ache between your temples goes away, and for once, your mind is completely clear, and you completely remember.</p><p> </p><p>Your mouth moves. “Silly me. <em>Of course, I remember</em>. I remember it all.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes! Yes, of course.” John sits up quickly, the sheets bunching underneath him. “What do you say? Let’s have a bit of a throwback, eh?”</p><p> </p><p>You grin widely, but that’s just your mouth moving. “I say yes.”</p><p> </p><p>Your morning routine passes by in a blur. You’re sitting in front of your mirror, blow-drying your hair, laughing when John takes the blow-dryer from your hands and starts miming a shooting gun. John places his hands on your shoulders and you reprimand him for moving you when you’re doing your makeup – he just laughs and tells you you’re beautiful either way. He says the same thing when you’re picking out clothes. It’s all perfect, just like a movie.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, you clean up nice,” you tell John as he stands near the front door, fiddling with his necktie. He smiles, holding his hand out, and you take it graciously, feeling like a princess. “Very gentlemanly of you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you ready?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ready as I’ll ever be.”</p><p> </p><p>“Alright, then – allons-y!” John cheers, swinging the door open to reveal a beautiful blue sky. “French for –”</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s go,” you both say at the same time. A beat of awkward silence passes before you shake your head and laugh. John joins in, and the sound is beautiful. He links his arm with yours and you start to make your way to the diner.</p><p> </p><p>The streets of your quaint little town are quiet today. You frown at the silence. All you hear is birdsong. And the birdsong is beautiful, of course, but it’s <em>just</em> birdsong. There should be people there. Neighbors, especially, like the ones that came to your wedding. You glance at John, walking beside you – he’s frowning too. He’s noticed it. “John, do you-”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” he says lowly. He stops, straightening, squinting at his surroundings. “Where are our neighbors?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know,” you reply, unsure, and John’s face turns serious.</p><p> </p><p>The streets are empty. They feel like they’ve never been empty, but they’re empty now and the whole place feels like a ghost town. You and John stand still on the sidewalk. You listen for anything – distant music, distant talking – anything that might tell you that all your neighbors are just far away, but there’s nothing. Nothing but the sound of the wind, and birdsong.</p><p> </p><p><em>Where are all the people? Who are your neighbors? Did you ever have neighbors?</em> Your headache comes back, a pounding pain in your temples now, still a threat. You groan, and John towards you in concern. <em>Stop thinking</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s too quiet. A small town like this shouldn’t be <em>too quiet</em>,<em>” </em>John continues. “Something’s wrong, I never did like birdsong that much – <em>agh</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>“John!”</p><p> </p><p>John clutches his head – he feels the pain too, somehow. You reach out to him and he recoils, pulling away like the pain is coming from <em>you</em>, and your heart breaks at that. The questions burn in your mind and suddenly they’re doused with water like they were never there. The pain is gone now. All you had to do was <em>stop thinking</em>.</p><p> </p><p>You have very, very lovely neighbors.</p><p> </p><p>“You okay?” you ask John, and he nods, looking dazed. There’s a far-away look in his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” he replies, out of breath. “Fine. Let’s keep going, yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>They’re all old, and it’s a quaint, quiet town. It’s supposed to be this quiet.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The diner is as fragrant as you remember. There’s that thing, about smells and memory and how they’re connected, and the diner is solid proof of it. Just opening the doors and walking in makes you feel nostalgic about a past you never had. John takes in a deep breath too, and his face breaks into a wide smile.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you say we take a seat at the counter?” John leads you to the stools, helping you to your chair before he sits down. Behind the counter is a young lady, younger than you, with a head of curly red hair and bright eyes. She looks so innocent and nice, and you wave to her politely. She waves back. Her arm is a little stiff.</p><p> </p><p>“H-hello,” she stutters, pulling out a notepad from her apron, “how may I… help you today?” You smile at her warmly – somehow her voice sounds familiar.</p><p> </p><p>But poor girl. She’s stuttering so much, and she looks so pale. It must be her first day on the job with nerves like that. “I’ll have a banana milkshake and fries, please,” you say, as gently as you can. The waitress doesn’t ease up, and grows even paler.</p><p> </p><p>John takes your hand from under the table. “I’ll have whatever the lady’s having,” he says smoothly. The girl nods, scurries to a door, and closes it very slowly behind her. It doesn’t make a sound at all.</p><p> </p><p>“The lady?” You turn to him. He shrugs and grins. “That’s terrible. You’ve been watching too many romcoms.”</p><p> </p><p>John lifts your chin with his thumb. “Is it working?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Is it working?”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Do you want me to tell you the truth?”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>“Do you want me to tell you the truth?” you say. Your mouth is dry, but you force a smile and swat his hand away playfully. “No.”</p><p> </p><p>He pouts at you. “I’ll try harder then.”</p><p> </p><p>The waitress comes out of the backdoor with a tray of milkshakes and fries. The milkshakes are in those nice, tall glasses with the pretty straws, just like your first date. Before the waitress can set the tray down in front of you, she spasms – the tray clatters onto the counter, but the milkshakes fall onto the floor with a loud crash and make a puddle of frothy liquid under her.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh no!” the waitress shouts. “Oh no! Oh –”</p><p> </p><p>John frowns and stands up, craning his neck to look at the mess. “Are you alright? I can help, if you’d like –”</p><p> </p><p>The waitress is still shouting, frozen in place. “Oh no! No! Oh no! How may I – may I -!”</p><p> </p><p>John raises his arm to shield you – her cries sound mechanical, stilted, and when you listen closely you can hear the faint whine of microphone feedback. She sounds like a robot – a real one, hiding complex mechanical circuitry? Maybe a perception filter, so she’s something else entirely. Or –</p><p> </p><p>The waitress, still stuck in place, repeated cries coming out of a mouth that isn’t moving, <em>flickers</em>.</p><p> </p><p>You lock eyes with John. He stares at you for a moment and the far-away look in his eyes fades away – then, slowly, he nods, and lowers his arm. He reaches for the tray on the counter, and throws it to you –</p><p> </p><p>And with all your strength, you fling the tray at the waitress. She lets out a shrill noise before disappearing completely, blinking out of existence like she was never there. The spilt milkshakes are gone too.</p><p> </p><p>“Good one,” the Doctor pants.</p><p> </p><p>You nod at him. “Yeah, yeah I think so.”</p><p>
  
</p><p><em>Pretty bad first date, huh? </em>Your head still feels fuzzy, even though you’ve already pulls yourself out of the woods – you remember the same diner, the same conversation, different scenarios. One where the waitress didn’t malfunction, one where you went home, one where you kissed on the way back… You shudder and suck in a breath through your teeth, your brain bursting at the seams.</p><p> </p><p>“I get it,” you mutter, “I get the wiping. There’s too much to think about.”</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor stays silent, occasionally glancing up the ceiling. Then his gaze travels to the windows. When you follow it, you see there’s nothing outside anymore. Just a black void for miles and miles, like a video game with missing textures.</p><p> </p><p>“Is that why we’re not moving?”</p><p> </p><p>“Argh,” the Doctor groans, pushing his hair out of his eyes, “I can’t figure it out! They must have put a dampener on my brain, making me think all those things about you -”</p><p> </p><p>Your heart twists painfully. <em>Right. Implanted memories.</em></p><p> </p><p>The Doctor presses his hands to his eyes, groaning – and then he stops, looking at you in surprise. “But you – do you have one?”</p><p> </p><p>“I wouldn’t know, I don’t have a brain like yours,” you say. “What do you mean a dampener?” The Doctor furrows his brows in thought.</p><p> </p><p>“Right,” he says quickly. “Human brain. Dampeners don’t take away memories, they store them somewhere else, <em>or </em>they usually cover them up. Like wallpaper. But I need to check if you have one – that could explain everything.” He frowns and peers into your eyes – and this isn’t you thinking like he’s your husband, this is all you, because you think his eyes are still beautiful. He reaches out, his fingertips hovering just at your temple. “May I?”</p><p> </p><p>“May I… what?”</p><p> </p><p>“Telepathic link,” the Doctor explains, “Time Lord thing. I just have to check whether they’ve put a dampener on you too. It could explain where we are, and if this is a simulation or not.”</p><p> </p><p>Worry rises from your stomach to your heart. Your traitorous, traitorous heart. The Doctor seems to notice, and pulls his hand away, trying to reassure you with a smile. You hate to admit that it works, because it always works when it’s <em>him</em>. “Trust me. Don’t worry, I won’t go looking where I shouldn’t.”</p><p> </p><p><em>Promise?</em> You take in a deep breath and nod. “I trust you.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s the truth, and it’ll always be the truth.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay.” The Doctor presses his fingertips to your temple, and closes his eyes. You close your eyes too at the sudden wave of calm that washes over you. “Good.”</p><p> </p><p>The feeling of the Doctor reaching into your brain isn’t painful. Instead, it feels curious – and it feels like a hug. Warm and safe and comforting, just like he is at the best times. It’s like a light squeeze, and it passes as quickly as it arrived.</p><p> </p><p>When you open your eyes, the Doctor’s eyes are wide and confused.</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t have one,” he mutters. “You don’t have a dampener. Why would they put one on me and not you?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“H- hello? Is thing on? Can you hear me?”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, we can hear you! Hello!” the Doctor calls out. “Who are you?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“I’m – I’m Marlene, you should recognize me? You’ve heard my voice before.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>“Yes, we have,” you say. “Hello, Marlene.”</p><p> </p><p>Marlene squeaks. <em>“Oh, that sounds weird from a human. Pretty average name for a Gargontian, I know, well I didn’t pick it so -”</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>The Doctor perks up, all of his previous seriousness disappearing. He claps his hands together and grins. How does he do that, flip from one side to the other in the blink of an eye? “A Gargontian? We’ve been to your planet! Incredible technology, all invented in such a short time span.”</p><p> </p><p>“We really enjoyed the visit,” you add helpfully.</p><p> </p><p><em>“Oh, thank you,”</em> Marlene says, sounding a little more confident. She coughs. <em>“We’re very proud of our advancements.”</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>“Marlene,” you start, laying a hand on the Doctor’s arm (you see him swallow in the corner of your eye and decide not to say anything about it), “can you help us get out?”</p><p> </p><p><em>“That’s the plan, hopefully. In, uh –”</em> The sound of keyboard clacking – “<em>About fifteen minutes, the Director will come up here and ask me to wipe you again. I’m already using so much power just doing this. The thing is, you’ve been here longer than any of our other test subjects ever, and all that memory wiping that we do is not good for you. Especially for those with less developed brains. No offence.”</em></p><p> </p><p>“None taken,” you say, scrunching up your face. <em>Less developed brains</em>. “What does it do? What happens?”</p><p> </p><p><em>“Oh, there’s no way to sugarcoat it! You die!” </em>Marlene says, her tone light. You and the Doctor lock eyes, both of your eyes widened in fear. <em>“Oh, don’t worry. You’re not going to die yet, but 11B, you are pretty close.</em> <em>This simulation can only run on one mind</em>. <em>Again, less developed brain than other races. No offence</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I’m starting to take offence,” you whisper to the Doctor.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not your fault,” the Doctor whispers back. “So, Marlene, what’s the plan?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“The plan is to make it look like you’ve been wiped, but you actually haven’t.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>The Doctor grins at you. “Brilliant, Marlene!”</p><p> </p><p><em>“Here’s the thing: you have to act like you’ve been wiped or you’ll -” </em>Marlene goes quiet. You hear a shuddering breath before she starts talking again. <em>“Nevermind. I can’t get you off the ship, but I think I can get you out of the sim. Just give me a day. You have to, as they say, keep the charade up.”</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>“Keep the charade up,” you repeat. Marlene hums.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Yes, ma’am. You still have to act married. That should be easy though! I’ve looked at your files, you guys have the highest compatibility rate out of all the test subjects we have! It’s incredible, really.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>“What does that mean?” you ask, dread creeping up on you.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Well, it means you’re a good couple! You’re really good together! Almost like you’re already in a relationship, am I right?”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“NO!” you and the Doctor shout in unison.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Sorry, but that’s proof. Compatibility was at least a hundred for you two. Of course, we searched and also found someone named Rose -”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>“Right, that’s enough,” the Doctor says quickly. You know how he tries to hide his sadness, but his eyes are just too expressive. They betray him everytime he wants to keep something hidden. <em>Rose Tyler</em>, you recall. You can’t help but feel bad, and then a little jealous, and then guilty for feeling jealous.</p><p> </p><p><em>“Anyway, I’ll just –” </em>Marlene shouts something that you’re sure is a swear in her language. <em>“Be quiet!”</em></p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“MARLENE!”</strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Yes, ma’am!”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>“What are you doing? Are you messing with them? You know I told you to create the –“</strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p><em>“Yes, ma’am, I am!” </em>Marlene stutters, all of her previous confidence gone. Poor girl. <em>“just waiting for the reset call.”</em></p><p>
  
</p><p><strong>“Do it,” </strong>the other voice growls. The voice grows deeper, and monstrous. <strong>“Fifty times, fifty resets. If they fail the next one, I kill them both.”</strong></p><p>
  
</p><p><em>Fifty resets? </em>The question is unspoken. You reach out for the Doctor without looking, and he grabs your hand tightly.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Ma’am, the prize – I mean, yes, ma’am. Of course.”</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>“If they don’t last a day tomorrow, they’re as good as dead. Understood?”</strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Completely, ma’am.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>The Doctor tips forward, and you catch him – he leans against you heavily, his eyes fluttering shut as he falls boneless against you. His head drops into the crook of your shoulder, just like in the morning. Your face burns at the realization.</p><p> </p><p>“Never dropped off like this before,” he mumbles, melting into your touch, and you fall to the floor under his weight.</p><p> </p><p><em>“I’m trying to make this as gentle as I can,” </em>Marlene says softly. <em>“I’m sorry for this.”</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>You start to feel hazy, and you fall asleep on the floor of a diner in nowhere with the Doctor in your arms.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This one's the last of the rewritten chapters - I really had a blast writing this one. After this is gonna be all new plot stuff! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Mr. and Mrs. Smith</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Follow the scripts.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here we are at chapter three! This one's a bit of a long one, so buckle in! I hope you guys enjoy this!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You’re floating.</p><p> </p><p>You’re weightless, somewhere. There’s only darkness around you, enveloping you, and absolutely nothing else. You can feel something pressing down on you. You can’t open your eyes. You move your fingers and something flows through them. <em>I’m in water</em>, you think, <em>sitting at the bottom of the pool while the rest of the world turns around me.</em></p><p> </p><p>You’re peaceful for a moment, enjoying the silence – your mind is blessedly quiet, you realize, and everything around you is still. You can’t hear anything but the beat of your heart, slow and steady. But time marches on.</p><p> </p><p><em>I’m in water</em>. There’s a pressure building in your chest. <em>I need to breathe.</em></p><p> </p><p>You inhale and water fills your lungs. You can’t hear yourself scream – you can only hear the quickening of your heartbeat and a constant drone. A distant humming, someone singing a tune you can’t recognize. But you’re drowning, you’re screaming, and then you open your eyes.</p><p> </p><p>You see the Doctor behind a pane of glass, submerged in water too. He’s still, and peaceful. Though the water slows your movements you raise your fists and pound at the glass. There’s still no sound, and you’re not breaking through. But you need to get to him before you drown or else he’ll drown too –</p><p> </p><p>You wake up choking, and with someone’s arms wrapped around you. You know exactly who those arms belong to, and it makes you panic even more – his arms around you should be a comfort but you just feel trapped.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s going on?” you hear the Doctor murmur behind you, his voice still thick with sleep. He hasn’t fully woken up yet. “Sweetheart?”</p><p> </p><p>You try to ignore the way your heart aches at the way he says <em>sweetheart</em> and focus on the way your lungs are burning instead. “<em>Honey</em> – wait, no,” you rasp out, “Doctor, let go of me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Doctor…” His voice is still low and sleepy, and you resist the urge to start bawling in his arms right then and there. You turn in his grasp to face him, letting your eyes drift over the features of his face. You’ve never seen the Doctor like this – still half-asleep – but to be fair, you’ve never seen him sleep at all. “Oh. <em>Oh.</em> What’s going on?”</p><p> </p><p>“I – I dreamed,” you hiccup, “I was – you were – it was so cold –”</p><p> </p><p>“It was just a dream then,” the Doctor says softly. He hasn’t let go of you yet, and you don’t want him to. “You’re alright now.”</p><p> </p><p>“Doctor,” you mumble pathetically, looking up at him, looking for comfort, “I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t apologize,” he says, and finally, presses you against him. The Doctor holds you tightly, resting his chin on your shoulder; you’re both hiding your faces now. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”</p><p> </p><p>You feel his hands on your back, rubbing gently. It’s comforting and it <em>hurts</em>. The dream feels normal – and maybe if you were normal and everything was normal, feelings wouldn’t be so hard.</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor pulls away, keeping his hands on your shoulders. He peers into your eyes, searching for something, and presses his lips to your forehead. Your heart flips, and you really wish it would stop doing that. “Are you alright now?”</p><p> </p><p>“I think so,” you lie. You watch as the Doctor’s face floods with relief and he smiles. Everything is alright for a little bit. “I just got scared.” Another lie, but not a whole lie. A half-truth.</p><p> </p><p>“Scared is good,” the Doctor says, patting your shoulders. “Scared is good in a place like this.”</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor sits up suddenly, snatching a small square of neon green paper stuck to the edge of your bedside table. He peels it off carefully and squints at the scribbly writing on it.</p><p> </p><p>“Marlene here,” he reads out, “you’re going to have to wait until I can find a way to get you out of there. You’ll still have to follow the scripts. Good luck. There’s something on the bed. It’s written in Gargontian.”</p><p> </p><p>You sit up and raise an eyebrow at him. “You can read Gargontian?”</p><p> </p><p>“You could too, if the TARDIS was here,” the Doctor explains. “It’s a beautiful language.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll take your word for it,” you say, and the Doctor frowns at you. The visit to Gargontin was mostly spent listening to the Doctor ramble about their technology and history. You just let the Doctor talk science to you – you enjoyed it, but he was constantly doing that thing where he spoke at breakneck speeds and expected you to understand him. But the trip wouldn’t have been as fun if the Doctor wasn’t around. You did get kicked off the planet, after all. “Something on the bed?”</p><p> </p><p>The sun’s already started to rise, sunlight already bathing your bedroom in a golden light. Just looking at the sheets brings to mind hours of comfort, and snuggling. Lots and lots of snuggling. And kissing. Lots of that too. You try to hide your blush as the Doctor jumps to his feet and starts patting the sheets. He snatches an envelope from the foot of the bed and rips it open, pulling out a piece of shiny paper.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a letter,” he says, then sniffs the paper deeply, “ooh, lots of fancy script. Lavender scented, but they really tried. Here, you read this.”</p><p> </p><p>He tosses the paper at you and you just barely catch it. It is really shiny, embossed with swirling patterns and shapes, and smells a lot like a marriage certificate. In flowing, handwritten cursive, it reads:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Dear Mr. and Mrs. Smith,</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Please join us for a tea party at the Central Hall Park later today. We’d like to celebrate your new move into our neighborhood and the start of a happy and successful marriage. We hope for your cooperation, and we’ll see you there!</em>
</p><p> </p><p>A happy and successful marriage. How long have you been blushing today? Has the Doctor noticed at all?</p><p> </p><p>“It’s an invitation to a tea party,” you say. “<em>We hope for your cooperation?</em> Sounds a bit ominous, don’t you think?”</p><p> </p><p>“Marlene did say to kill time,” the Doctor says, pointing at the letter. “And no specific time. <em>Time</em>. That reminds me, where are all the clocks in this place? Haven’t you noticed there’s no way to tell time other than looking outside?”</p><p> </p><p>“Can’t you guess what time it is?”</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor rushes to the window and sticks his head out – the sun’s already high in the sky, and you can already feel small beads of sweat start to build up on your forehead. “Hard to tell in a dream,” he calls back. “All I can say is, it’s morning.”</p><p> </p><p>You look at the letter again. “They said ‘later today’. I don’t think they’d want us to be late.”</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor sticks his head back inside. He pats you on the shoulder and practically dances out of the room. “Then we can leave now!”</p><p> </p><p>You already start walking – but out of the corner of your eye, you spot your nightgown fluttering with your steps and oh my god you’re in your nightgown. It’s made of a flowing, thin piece of fabric that you really feel doesn’t cover much. You remember teasing touches on your neck and shoulder in the dead of night – you feel heat rise to your face again, and you pause. “W-wait a second. Doctor?”</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor stops in his tracks. “Yes?”</p><p> </p><p>You cross your arms over your chest in a vain attempt to hide yourself. “I’m in a nightgown. I’ll, uh, have to get changed. I can’t really go to a party in a nightgown.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh?” The Doctor blinks at you, then looks down at himself. “Oh. Right. I suppose I’ll have to get changed too.” He looks up at you innocently – it’s incredible how innocent he is with his age – “I’ll leave and give you some privacy.”</p><p> </p><p>You can only mutter a soft “okay” as he leaves the bedroom, softly closing the door behind him. You take a few steps backwards and look at yourself in the mirror. If regeneration produced any heat, and it must, considering the state of the TARDIS after regenerations, your face would be hotter than that. You lift your hands to your cheeks and feel the heat radiating off of them.</p><p> </p><p>You’d said it before but the mind wiping made sense – there were too many memories that didn’t make sense. Thinking of them like you were actors in a role didn’t help, either. All of that lying together in bed, spending time close to each other was real, and you’d actually done it, and the Doctor wasn’t mentioning it at all.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>It’s probably for the best that he doesn’t mention it, you think, the last thing I’d want him to think is that I’m actually in –</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” you breathe out, “clothes.”</p><p> </p><p>You’re not trying to impress the Doctor. You’re not. You don’t even know what he likes (or <em>if</em> he <em>likes</em>, for that matter). Maybe I should wear a bowtie, you think, holding up a dress covered in ribbons. Maybe not.</p><p> </p><p>The dress at the very back of the closet is the one that catches your eye – it’s a simple, white dress that stops right below the knee. It’s cinched at the waist and covered in lace, and as you slip it on it’s incredible how much this dress reminds you of your –</p><p> </p><p>“Are you – hang on, what are you wearing that for?”</p><p> </p><p>You startle when the Doctor swings the door open – and he startles when he sees you in the dress. He’s frozen in the doorway, his eyes wide, his mouth hanging open slightly like’s he’s completely lost the ability to speak.</p><p> </p><p>“What?” you ask, “What’s wrong?"</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing, it's just –” He falters, and flaps his hands around, gesturing in your general direction. Suddenly, he sighs, wringing his hands, and looks up at you, defeated. Something in his voice breaks. “That dress – it looks like your wedding dress.”</p><p> </p><p>An image flashes in your mind – you and your husband standing together under an arch of flowers, surrounded by friends and family. Cheers erupting when the two of you finally kiss. <em>It’s not real</em>, you remind yourself.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry, it’s the dampener,” the Doctor says, sounding so exhausted. He glances at you, something in his eyes that you just can’t read. For a moment, you lock eyes, and you think you know what it means, but he casts his gaze to the floor again, and he’s as unreadable as ever.</p><p> </p><p>Then – silently, and loud enough so only you can hear – he mumbles, “You look wonderful.”</p><p> </p><p>Warmth swells up in your chest. “Thank you,” you whisper. “You’re not too bad yourself.”</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor looks up at you through his eyelashes and smiles. Then your gaze travels down, and you snort – somehow, he’s managed to find a bowtie in the house and decided to wear it. He still looks quite smart, of course, but the bowtie… you giggle, and the Doctor frowns.</p><p> </p><p>“Why are you laughing?” Then, more authoritatively – “Oi, <em>stop it</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>You reach out and tug at the fabric. “Really? You just couldn’t resist, could you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Bowties are cool,” he says, in the voice that he uses when he’s trying to sound smooth.</p><p> </p><p>“Your point is?”</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor ignores you.  “Tea parties! I love a good tea party.” He holds out his elbow and you link your arms with his. He grins down at you, excitedly raising his eyebrows. “Let’s go undercover.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The streets of your quaint little town are livelier today. You frown at the noise. You can hear beautiful birdsong in the distance, and passing conversations. You can hear music, from a few streets down, and laughter from the house down the street.</p><p> </p><p>You can see your neighbors walking on the sidewalks, families and couples, and none of them are strangers. They all turn to face you as you walk arm in arm with the Doctor. They smile and wave, but none of them linger for too long.</p><p> </p><p>“Where is Central Hall Park?” you ask, blinking against the bright sunlight. "Why haven't we found it yet?"</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The houses in front of you disappear, revealing a big open clearing with acres of the greenest grass. You shiver at the warm breeze that blows across your face. Even the smell of the air has changed, from the smell of the suburbs to the fresh smell of cut grass and plants.</p><p> </p><p>"Whoa," you breathe, "how do you move a park?"</p><p> </p><p>"You don't," the Doctor says. He looks up at the sky. "But you can move people. You can move time. Look at the sun."</p><p> </p><p>You look up as well - the sun's setting now, when it was high in the sky just a few minutes earlier. "Did we walk here?"</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor wipes his brow. It comes away shiny, and now you can feel the beads of sweat just underneath your collar. The lace on your dress is getting itchy. "We walked here, and they cut it out. Like a movie, cutting out all the unnecessary bits. I don't know why I didn't notice before."</p><p> </p><p>There's a crowd of people in one corner of the park, all of them standing close to a gazebo built near a pond. They're mostly dressed like you, all dolled up in lace and ribbons, and their smiles are so big that you wonder if their jaws ever hurt.</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor nods towards the crowd. "There's our tea party."</p><p> </p><p>Somewhere in the crowd, you spot a head of curly red hair - the waitress from the diner, you realize. She catches your eye from across the park. Her eyes are still bright, and they bore holes into you as she stops and stares. She nods her head in your direction.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh - sweetie, we've been looking everywhere for you!"</p><p> </p><p>A frail hand takes yours. You look away from the crowd to see a small, elderly woman dressed in a pink dress that looks more like a cupcake. She smiles at you, warm and welcoming; you can't see her eyes behind her glasses. Beside you, the Doctor straightens.</p><p> </p><p>"Mrs. Smith, am I right?" she asks, her voice high and wavering, and you nod. "And this young man must be -"</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor beats you to it, smiling politely, leaning forward to take the old woman's hand and press a kiss to it. "I'm her husband, John Smith. It's nice to meet you."</p><p> </p><p>The old woman giggles, and you have to suppress one too. It's so strange hearing it from him, but it doesn't make you feel bad. "You've snatched up quite a gentleman, haven't you, Mrs. Smith? You lucky thing. Come, I want you to meet the others."</p><p> </p><p>She turns away and hobbles to the gazebo. All of the people there turn to face you - they all raise their hands and wave in perfect unison.</p><p> </p><p>You glance at the Doctor. "We're gonna follow her?"</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor's polite smile drops. He adjusts his bowtie and looks straight ahead. "We're gonna follow her."</p><p> </p><p>For an old lady, she walks quite quickly. She's already at the gazebo, chatting animatedly with her friends by the time you and the Doctor arrive.</p><p> </p><p>"Mrs. Smith, I'm Caroline," she says. She gestures to the women standing beside her - one of them a tall, thin woman with sharp features, the other a younger woman more your age. They're both dressed in pink, like Caroline. "The tall one is Gladys, and the young one's my daughter, Michelle. Say hi, Michelle."</p><p> </p><p>"Hi," Michelle says, crossing her arms over her chest. She doesn't look happy to be here.</p><p> </p><p>"She's a moody one." Caroline waves her hand dismissively. "I've been asking Gladys to help straighten her out, as they say. But enough about me. Let's talk about you."</p><p> </p><p>"About me." Instinctively, you reach for the Doctor - he's right by your side, and he lets you wrap your hand around his without question.</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, about you! You've just moved here!" Caroline beams. "Tell us everything. How did you meet?"</p><p> </p><p><em>"Follow the scripts",</em> Marlene had said. You grip the Doctor's hand tighter, and he gives you a light squeeze. "Well, it was almost like he fell out of the sky."</p><p> </p><p>You can feel the Doctor's eyes on you now. He really did fall out of the sky - in the clothes of his past body and a broken TARDIS. Confused, and a little bit sick, walking around like a baby giraffe with limbs that should have been too long for his body. He pulled you into the TARDIS and you haven't left since. "Meeting him was scary, but magical. I wouldn't trade it for the world. In the end, he stole me away, I guess."</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor laughs, pulling you closer to him and leaning down to press a kiss onto the top of your head. "I'd like to make a correction - she stole me, actually."</p><p> </p><p>Your mind pauses, but your body moves on its own – you stand on your toes and press a kiss to the Doctor’s cheek. You hear the Doctor chuckle as you pull away.</p><p> </p><p>"How romantic," Michelle sighs.</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, I think so." Gladys drawls over her cup of tea. She looks at you through her spidery eyelashes. "I'm glad you decided to settle down, dear. Especially now, when your life must be so fraught with adventure."</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, dear," Caroline pipes in. "Young girls like you need to make their decisions earlier in life. I keep telling Michelle this, but she just won't listen."</p><p> </p><p>You're still frozen. Why did you want this, again? Why would you trade a life of adventure for a lifetime of mundanity?</p><p> </p><p>"Well -" The Doctor turns to look at you. You can only glance up at him for a second before suddenly being really interested in all the ladies' shoes. He sweeps his concern for you under the rug. "Marriage is its own adventure, isn't it, sweetheart? Hmm?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah," you mumble. <em>Sweetheart</em>. It's starting to get dark, a gloomy reflection of how you feel. "Yeah, it is."</p><p> </p><p>Caroline quickly perks up - the soft sounds of a guitar fade into your hearing. "Gladys, they're playing music," she says brightly, taking Gladys's hand and leading her away. "Michelle, you have fun!"</p><p> </p><p>All of a sudden, Michelle in her oversized pink dress, bored out of her mind at a stuffy event, looks a lot like you. "Sure," she calls back, then she quickly turns to face you. She looks absolutely taken with the two of you. Softly, so no else hears, she asks, "Did you run away?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes," the Doctor replies, his voice just as soft as hers. "I started running and she decided to tag along."</p><p> </p><p>Despite yourself, you laugh. "You call it tagging along? You literally begged me to come with you."</p><p> </p><p>"And you said yes, so you're tagging along," the Doctor says. Michelle hides her smile behind her hand.</p><p> </p><p>"Good for you," she says. "I'm stuck here until I find someone to settle down with, apparently. Sounds boring, honestly. Are you bored?"</p><p> </p><p>"Never," you tell her, and it's the truth. "You can stay with someone forever and never have to stop moving."</p><p> </p><p>You feel the Doctor tense beside you, feel his grip on your hand tighten. </p><p> </p><p>"Michelle!" a shrill voice cries - it's probably Gladys - and Michelle winces.</p><p> </p><p>"Sorry, I have to go," she says quickly. "Good luck, you two."</p><p> </p><p>You don't notice that Michelle has curly red hair until she walks away. The Doctor lets go of your hand and turns to face you, extending his hand with a flourish. "Shall we, my lady?"</p><p> </p><p>You giggle and take his hand. He leads you to a spot near the pond - you spot Caroline and Gladys dancing together without a care in the world.</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor slowly wraps one of his arms around your hip, settling his hand on the small of your back. He takes your hand in his, and, like you've done this a million times before, you rest your other hand on his shoulder. Slowly, you start to sway to the sound of gentle guitar plucking, and the sounds of the night.</p><p> </p><p>"Who taught you to dance?"</p><p> </p><p>He pauses in thought. Then, "The Queen of England."</p><p> </p><p>"You're joking."</p><p> </p><p>"I wouldn't joke about something like that!"</p><p> </p><p>You've never felt him so close before. You've never felt his heartbeats this close before - they seem to beat in time to the rhythm of the song. The Doctor's hand wrapped around yours is a familiar comfort, but here it means something else.</p><p> </p><p>This isn't real. All of this is just following a script, living a lie until you can all go back to normal. And when you go back to normal, he'll never mention it again. You'll be back to running, running through the universe and running away from him. And one day, you'll stop running, and he'll leave you behind none the wiser. <em>Stupid, stupid girl</em>, you scold yourself. Your hand on the Doctor's shoulder feels so heavy now.</p><p> </p><p>"You've gotten awfully quiet," the Doctor mutters. His breath just nearly tickles your face. "What's wrong?"</p><p> </p><p>You want to tell him both everything and nothing. Instead you say: "I know you hate this."</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor lifts an eyebrow. "Hate what?"</p><p> </p><p>"This." You shrug, shaking your head. "Being slow. Talking to dull people. I know you'd much rather be on the TARDIS instead."</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor's silent for a moment - and in that moment, you think you're right - but then a smile spreads across his face, like a ray of sunshine. Your heartbeat feels shallow in your chest at the sight. "It's not so bad, sometimes. I've got you."</p><p> </p><p>You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. A sliver of hope worms its way into your heart. "Really?"</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor raises his eyebrows. "Out of everyone in the universe, there's you. It does make the dull bits a bit more bearable."</p><p> </p><p>You're still swaying together, and you feel like you're floating. Hanging on to the ground with just a string, and if it breaks, you'll fall. The Doctor is so close now and you can't look away. You are drowning in his eyes, as cliché as it sounds. The unreadable look comes back - you watch as his smile grows gentler, as his eyes grow softer, and you recognize the look in his eyes because you saw it at your wedding -</p><p> </p><p>It's <em>reverence</em>. The Doctor is looking at you with a look that's reserved for when he gazes out of the TARDIS as it drifts through space, simply admiring the beauty of the stars. He's admiring you, shamelessly, and you don't know how much of it is "your husband" and how much of it is the Doctor.</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor leans his forehead against yours. You can feel his breath fan against your face, and you wonder if he can hear the way your heart is thudding in your chest. Just as he leans in further -</p><p> </p><p>The world stops around you. Even the music goes quiet, replaced by the faint whistling of the wind. Everything, including the people.</p><p> </p><p>"What happened?" Dread settles into the pit of your stomach. "Why did everything stop?"</p><p> </p><p>"They're watching," the Doctor says lowly. He doesn't lean away from you, but he's kept his gaze behind you. "Waiting for something."</p><p> </p><p>Everyone around you has gone completely still. The couples in each other's arms all turn to face you, their bodies frozen like statues. They're all smiling. Their eyes are like mirrors, and they gleam in the light of the moon. </p><p> </p><p>An idea bursts into your mind, and you're scolding yourself again, but you lock eyes with the Doctor. "Hey. Do you trust me?"</p><p> </p><p>"That's my line," he says, both amused and confused.</p><p> </p><p>You untangle your hand from his and cradle his face with your hands. His skin is warm underneath your palms. "Now it's mine. Do you trust me?"</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor stares at you, peering into your eyes and searching for something like he did in the morning. He seems to find it this time. "Always."</p><p> </p><p>"Good," you breathe, and you try to ignore the way your heart is beating out of your chest. "Here I go."</p><p> </p><p>You lean in and press your lips to his.</p><p> </p><p>You don't expect it to feel so real. Your first thoughts of <em>I'm doing this because this is probably what the people watching us want, and I'm just following a script</em> - they're all washed away when the Doctor leans further into you. He melts into your touch, and you let your eyes slip shut. You're crazy for doing this and he's crazy for agreeing.</p><p> </p><p>You don't even notice the music start up again. You're just completely lost in him, and the sliver of hope that's wormed its way into your heart starts digging deeper and deeper into you. It hurts, but it's real, and that's what matters.</p><p> </p><p>You're breathless when he pulls away. "Don't tell me the Queen taught you to kiss like that too."</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor laughs, and brushes his lips against yours. "I have so much I want to tell you."</p><p> </p><p>"Guys, <em>GUYS!"</em></p><p> </p><p>You spin around and find Michelle bolting towards you. She comes to a stop in front of you, resting her hands on her knees, the hem of her pink dress muddied. Her red hair bounces as she takes deep breaths in and out.</p><p> </p><p>"Michelle?" you ask, and Michelle shakes her head vigorously.</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, but also no," Michelle pants. "It's me! Marlene! I'm piloting. Nice work, by the way."</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor squints at Michelle, leaning down to take a closer look at her face. "You're piloting Michelle's body?"</p><p> </p><p>"It's as simple as you think. Michelle isn't real, anyway, so it's not that hard to just take a microphone and a keyboard and just..." Michelle - or Marlene - mimes typing, then clicks her tongue. She glances behind her, and when she turns to face you her face is pale. "Oh, no. I got carried away."</p><p> </p><p>"What wrong?" You reach out and grab Marlene's shoulders. She shudders.</p><p> </p><p>"I couldn't stop her," she says quickly. "The Director. She found out what I was trying to do, and she's locking you guys in. Forever. I'm so sorry. 11B - If you stay here any longer, it's going to kill you."</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor's voice is tight. "Why? Why would it kill her?"</p><p> </p><p>Marlene shivers. "The simulation can only run on one mind. You had to go through three more resets before I could get the neighbors to an acceptable state without you noticing, because you notice all the time something is wrong -"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, and?" The Doctor takes a few steps forward, his shoulders hunched, and Marlene stumbles backward.</p><p> </p><p>"11B, this is your dream." Marlene looks up at you with huge, sorrowful eyes. "We built all of this on you."</p><p> </p><p>"Hang on, hang on," the Doctor raises his hands. "This whole simulation's based on her mind? A human? You said the wiping affects the mind - I'm a Time Lord, why not use mine?"</p><p> </p><p>"Because this isn't what <em>you</em> want!" Marlene cries. "I'm sorry, I can't get you out of here."</p><p> </p><p>But this isn't what you want either - or is what you want just the same thing with a different wallpaper? "What happens? What happens to him if I die?"</p><p> </p><p>"No, don't," the Doctor says darkly. "Don't ask that question."</p><p> </p><p>Marlene, teary-eyed, just shakes her head, and whispers another apology.</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor mutters something under his breath, his voice almost a growl but not quite. You look at him and he pauses, his brows furrowed and his mouth set into a hard line. This is what he's like when he doesn't sweep his worry under the rug.</p><p> </p><p>"Doctor, I'm sorry," you start, but he shushes you.</p><p> </p><p>"Hush. Thinking," he says. "There's always a way out. A door, a door -"</p><p> </p><p>You lock eyes with him, the same thought running through your mind - the blue door in the house that looked like the TARDIS doors that woke you up - "In the house!"</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor claps his hands together and snaps his fingers, hope starting to bloom on his face. "Yes, and how did you find that door?"</p><p> </p><p>"I don't know, I just... found it."</p><p> </p><p>"No, you <em>made</em> it." The Doctor places his hands on your shoulders and shakes you slightly. "You made that door and Marlene doesn't have to make an exit for us because you're clever!"</p><p> </p><p>You blink at him. "<em>I'm</em> clever."</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor has that manic grin on his face when he's just figured something out, running on the high of discovery. "Yes! You're the architect of this dream - it's why the simulations never work; it's why they keep resetting us. It's because you're doing something so smart and you don't even know it."</p><p> </p><p>You blink at him, and then at Marlene - and then, out of curiosity, you think that the gazebo isn't there anymore. The whole structure shimmers in the air and disappears. You gasp when it fades into the air, leaving a patch of flowery grass behind.</p><p> </p><p>"You have as much control over this world as I do," Marlene says, a little awed. "<em>Oh</em>, we should have put a dampener on you."</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, you should have," the Doctor says, his voice full of pride. "You can make us a way out of here."</p><p> </p><p>Marlene looks around, frowning. "But there aren't any doors. You can't make a door without any walls. This place does have rules."</p><p> </p><p>Your eyes fall on the pond, and you let the same manic smile spread over your face. "Rules are meant to be broken. Fancy a swim?"</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, you're brilliant," the Doctor cries, grabbing your face in his hands and planting a big kiss onto your hair - you squeeze your eyes shut and grin.</p><p> </p><p>"You two really are compatible," Marlene teases.</p><p> </p><p>"Shut up," you say, but you're grinning.</p><p> </p><p>The pond doesn't look deep, but tonight it looks deeper than the Marianas Trench - it seems to stretch all the way below for miles and miles. You slip your shoes off and wade in, feeling the pebbles underneath your bare feet. "I miss the ocean," you tell the Doctor. "We're going to a beach after this, yeah?</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor catches up with you, standing next to you in the water. "Definitely. I think we should go to Helnypso - practically abandoned now, but used to be a tourist hotspot a few thousand years ago. We could go then, with all the gift shops, if you fancy that. Or we could -"</p><p> </p><p>You shoot the Doctor a look, and he quiets down, smiling sheepishly.</p><p> </p><p>"I'll be there when you wake up," Marlene calls, "try not to panic! Good luck!"</p><p> </p><p>You wade in further - it reaches your midsection, and you let your hands float on the surface of the water. You feel like you're standing on the edge of a cliff. You look down and you can't see the bottom of the pond anymore.</p><p> </p><p>"Leap of faith, then," the Doctor says quietly. "Are you scared?"</p><p> </p><p>You are. Terrified. But - "Scared is good in a place like this," you echo, and you watch the Doctor's expression turn into one of wonder. You grab his hand. "Geronimo."</p><p> </p><p>You take the plunge.</p><p> </p><p>You’re weightless. There’s only darkness around you, enveloping you, and absolutely nothing else. You can feel something pressing down on you. You can’t open your eyes. You can feel your hand gripping the Doctor's, like a lifeline.</p><p> </p><p>You’re peaceful for a moment, enjoying the silence – your mind is blessedly quiet, you realize, and everything around you is still. You can’t hear anything but the beat of your heart, slow and steady. But time marches on. And as time marches on, the world around you disappears, the murky water of the pond turning into the pristine clean water of…somewhere else.</p><p> </p><p>You wake up.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you guys are having a wonderful day/night! Stay strong, stay positive, I love you all.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Escape</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>No, this is not chapter five of Portal 2. Speaking of Portal 2, I should play that game again... Anyway, welcome to fourth chapter of Reset! Please enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>"Wake up, wake up -"</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>"Argh, come on, reset the system, reset the system -"</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>"Just let me save them!"</em>
</p><p> </p><p>...</p><p> </p><p>You open your eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Human beings are complex machines. There are so many moving parts involved in keeping just one human alive. You've sometimes envied the alien species that you've met during your travels that function on so much less - some of them don't even need to breathe.</p><p> </p><p>But you're human, almost unfortunately.</p><p> </p><p>You inhale a lungful of water - it burns your throat and nose like water from a swimming pool. It hurts a lot, and you panic, thrashing around in the water that surrounds you. Your hand bangs against a flat surface in front of you, and your panic stops for a moment. You remember this - the dream inside the dream, the short vision of reality - you curl your hands into fists and start pounding at the surface in front of you.</p><p> </p><p><em>Bang! Bang!</em> The sound is hollow in the water. Your vision, though blurry from all the water in your eyes, clears a bit - the flat surface in front of you is glass, and not too far away from you, you think you can see the blurry shape of someone else, someone important -</p><p> </p><p>Your panic returns with a vengeance. You keep on pounding at the glass. If you could scream, you'd be screaming. Your throat is still stinging and you're running out of air. You're running out of time.</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, the barrier slides down. All the water rushes out, taking you with it. You're left spluttering on the floor, soaking wet, and now you're aware of how cold the floor is. Metal, maybe?</p><p> </p><p>You cough and press your palms to the floor. Definitely metal, you think, as you pull yourself up to your feet. You heave and wipe the water from your face, but your hand gets caught in a wire. You curl your fingers around the wire and pull - pain explodes behind your eyes, and the wire digs out of your temple. You feel something warm drip down your face that definitely isn't water.</p><p> </p><p>You take in a deep breath when the pain disappears. There are tendrils at the end of the wire that curl into themselves once it’s out of your head – you let it fall to the floor, sparking.</p><p> </p><p>You're forgetting something, you think through a haze, and you spin on the spot - and right in front of you, you see the Doctor behind the same pane of glass, also submerged in water. There's a strange contraption on his head that almost looks like a pair of headphones. The cable runs alongside where the Doctor is and into your now empty chamber.</p><p> </p><p>"Doctor?" You rush forward and press your palms against the glass. It doesn't budge. You look up at him - he almost looks dead in there - and panic starts to rise up your throat again. "Come on, come on, open up!"</p><p> </p><p>You start banging your fists against the glass, just like you did, but nothing seems to happen. You could wait for the glass to slide open, just like yours did - but that could have been a fluke. If he wakes up in there he's going to drown and you can't do anything about it.</p><p> </p><p>You swear, and take a few steps backwards. Then you start to run at the glass, leaning your whole body forward. You doubt it's going to break, but you're going to try, damn it -</p><p> </p><p>Just as your shoulder collides with the glass, it slides down. Water rushes towards you and the Doctor's limp form crashes into your arms, sending you both to the floor. The contraption on his head hits the floor with a loud crack and rolls off of his head. Your back hits the floor with a wet thump, and you don't think you can hear the Doctor breathing.</p><p> </p><p>You push and roll him off of you. He's pliant against you, and your heart catches in your throat.</p><p> </p><p>"Doctor, hey," you say, moving to lean over him. He's so pale. You gently slap your hand against his cheek and wince at how cold it is. "Wake up."</p><p> </p><p>He's still not moving, and now you're terrified. You press your head against his chest and strain your hearing, trying to listen for something, anything - you think you hear the faint sound of his heartbeats. You sigh in relief, but it's a small comfort, because he's still not waking up.</p><p> </p><p>You cradle his head in your hands, moving it around slightly. "Hey. Don't make me panic over here, you're not gonna like that."</p><p> </p><p>Nothing still. You bite back a sob.</p><p> </p><p><em>"SOMEONE, HELP!"</em> you yell. Your voice bounces against the walls and the only response you get is your own echo pleading for help back at you. You brush back the hair on his forehead. He looks so calm, he could be just asleep, he's probably just asleep, but you're alone in a strange place and honestly -</p><p> </p><p>"Hey, wake up, I need you," you beg. You rub your thumb against his cheek. "I don't wanna be alone here, we have to get out of here together, okay? Please wake up."</p><p> </p><p>You just get silence from him. You squeeze your eyes shut and press your forehead against his, your own heart beating in your chest so hard it's started to actually hurt. Physically and emotionally.</p><p> </p><p>"Please wake up. I know you can hear me," you whisper, and swallow thickly. Fear turns to desperation turns to courage. "I love you, okay? I <em>love</em> you, and if you don't wake up, I'm going to -"</p><p> </p><p>"...what?"</p><p> </p><p>Your eyes shoot open. The Doctor smiles weakly at you, his eyes shining with what you hope is just water. He reaches up to put a hand on your cheek. "What are you going to do?" he wheezes.</p><p> </p><p>"Nothing," you breathe out, but you're smiling so hard your face might break. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, and you have to admit it's a bit of an awkward position - the Doctor lying on the floor and you kneeling beside him - but he's here now, and completely alright, and that's what matters the most to you. "I <em>hate</em> you."</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor shifts into a sitting position and presses his face into the crook of your shoulder - "No, you don't."</p><p> </p><p>You sit there for a moment. Both of you soaking wet, cold, and a little bit out of it, but <em>alive</em> and <em>together</em>. You feel the Doctor shake slightly in your arms, and he mutters something along the lines of "we're alright," but you're not sure if he's comforting you or himself. When he pulls away, his eyes are still shiny.</p><p> </p><p>"Wait." The Doctor's brow pinches, and leans forward to look at the side of your face. He lifts his hands to your temple and his fingers come away bright red. "You're bleeding."</p><p> </p><p>"I am?" You touch the same spot and hiss in pain. "Oh. I am. Ow. Is it bad?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, it's bad," mutters the Doctor. You have to smile at his honesty. "You won't bleed out, but it looks deep. Are you feeling alright? Where'd you get that?"</p><p> </p><p>You jerk your thumb behind him at the sparking wire still on the floor. It's only now you notice that it's covered in blood too, the red fading into the water all around it. You try not to feel sick at the sight. "I pulled that out of me."</p><p> </p><p>"You pulled that out of you?" The Doctor's face morphs into one of mild disgust, and he turns around to take a look at it. He lifts it up and squints at it. "Oh, this is Gargontian technology. Direct link simulation. Taps right into your brain. Very painful, they used it as an interrogation tactic in their wars." The Doctor's voice trails off. "A whole world... in one little wire. No wonder it was so hard to control. I wish I had my sonic."</p><p> </p><p>There's a loud hissing sound, then a clunk, and then the sound of something sliding open. You both turn around to see a redhead in a frilly pink dress, nervously holding her hands behind her back and standing on the balls of her feet.</p><p> </p><p>"Michelle!" The Doctor cries, pulling himself up to his feet, then frowns. "Wait, no. Marlene. You look human."</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor holds a hand out for you - you take it and pull yourself up, feeling rivulets of water run down your legs. Marlene grimaces, pulling away some of the layers of her dress. Underneath all the tulle is a blinking device strapped to her calf. Marlene puts her hands behind her back again and the device disappears under all the pink fabric.</p><p> </p><p>"I like looking human," Marlene stutters, "and it's so easy to just use an asset you've already made instead of making a new one, and besides, humans are pretty cute -"</p><p> </p><p>"Even with our less developed brains?" you tease, and Marlene flushes a bright red, redder than the hair of the body she's wearing.</p><p> </p><p>"I take that back," she says quickly. "I underestimated you, when I put you under. I thought you'd be easy to control without a dampener. I was wrong."</p><p> </p><p>You walk forward and pat Marlene on the shoulders. "Yeah, but you ended up being right in the end. You got us out. Thank you."</p><p> </p><p>"Thank you. I never thought I'd hear that." Marlene shudders a little bit, her big eyes shining with tears.</p><p> </p><p>She plunges her hand down the layers of her dress, fishing around for something - and she lifts out a familiar, screwdriver device. The Doctor's face lights up immediately. "I think this is yours?"</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor practically snatches his sonic screwdriver out of Marlene's hands. He brings it close to his face, squeezing his eyes shut and smiling like an idiot. "I've missed my sonic!"</p><p> </p><p>"Don't tell me you like the sonic more than me," you say, rolling your eyes.</p><p> </p><p>"There's a special place in my hearts for the sonic," the Doctor replies. "Don't get jealous."</p><p> </p><p>"I'll try not to."     </p><p> </p><p>"If you guys are done being cute," Marlene says, making her way to the exit of the room and peeking out the door, "we have to get going now. We don't have long before the Director notices you two are off the grid. Now come on, follow me."</p><p> </p><p>Marlene's poofy pink dress is a huge contrast to the bare, metal hallways of the ship you're on. You can barely even guess where you are, and what time it is, although time is a bit of a given on a spaceship. The hallways are lit up with bright white lights that give everything a clinical feel. Every few steps, Marlene has to stop and peek through the doorways that divide the hallways. Her pink dress reflects the light and casts pink shadows on the floor of the ship.</p><p> </p><p>"So, tell us a bit about the place," the Doctor says, clapping his hands together.</p><p> </p><p>"The Director re-purposed the ship for the job," Marlene says. "She found it in a junkyard and stole it, then built everything on it and started collecting checks for simulation work. You guys were for a specific client."</p><p> </p><p>"Hang on." The Doctor sniffs the air. His frown deepens. "This is a seventeenth century Gargontian mining vessel! You don't steal these things nor do they end up in junkyards."</p><p> </p><p>"That's what the Director's told me." Marlene's voice is tight. "I haven't had a reason to think she was lying until she brought you guys in."</p><p> </p><p>You glance at the Doctor - he meets your eyes, and you both exchange a look of confusion, though the Doctor's seems to be turning into one of understanding. He nods in Marlene's direction and you keep going, following Marlene through the shiny hallways.</p><p> </p><p>Marlene pauses in front of another doorway. This one isn't opened - she leans forward, reaching out to open it, but pulls back quickly and keeps walking forward, a troubled expression on her face. "D-don't look in there," she calls back.</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor stops completely in front of the doorway. "Right, what's in here?"</p><p> </p><p>"Doctor, don't you think we should be following her?" you ask. Marlene hasn't noticed that you've stopped following her yet, still walking slowly forward.</p><p> </p><p>"Sorry. Don't have the best track record for following instructions," the Doctor says quietly, pointing his sonic at the door. The door hisses as it slides open, and that noise is what startles Marlene - you hear her scream and her quick footsteps as she runs back towards the two of you.</p><p> </p><p>"Guys, I told you not to open that -!"</p><p> </p><p>The door slides open and you gasp, bringing your hands up to your mouth.</p><p> </p><p>The room's full of chambers - glass chambers, full of water like the ones that were holding you and the Doctor, and full of people. Every chamber has someone in it - different kinds of aliens, some humanoid and some not, all suspended in water and all of them paler than death.</p><p> </p><p>You rush to one of the chambers and press your hands to it, looking up at its occupant. Every single one of them has that wire embedded in their temple too; their skin all discolored from how long they've been suspended. You feel sick – these people are all like you, stuck in a dream they don’t want to be in – and you press your hands to the glass again like it’s going to magically slide down and free everyone.</p><p> </p><p>"We have to help them," you mumble. "We have to get them out, too."</p><p> </p><p>You hear Marlene make a strangled noise behind you. "I can't."</p><p> </p><p>You whip around to face her and she shrinks. "What do you mean, 'I can't'? You got us out, you have to help them too! Why can't you -"</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor whispers your name, moving to stand next to you. "She can't help them because they're dead."</p><p> </p><p>Your stomach turns. The idea of dying in the simulation becomes a lot more real, and you reach out for comfort - you find the Doctor's hand already there, because it always is, and you feel a little bit calmer.</p><p> </p><p>"It's what would have happened to you," Marlene says shakily, wiping her face. "The direct link means direct access - and direct access means you can just -" Her voice breaks off, the poor, poor girl - you let go of the Doctor's hand and reach out to her, but she shrinks away again.</p><p> </p><p>"But I saw. I got in their heads. I found out what life was really like." Marlene's voice grows quieter and quieter, until you can barely hear her. "So I tried to help them. And the Director saw, every time, and she..." She chuckles dryly and wipes her face again. She seems to flicker. "They weren't very good actors, let's say."</p><p> </p><p>"I'm sorry," you whisper, and Marlene shakes her head.</p><p> </p><p>"It's doesn't matter. I'm getting you guys out of here if it’s the last thing I do." Marlene straightens and walks out of the room. Your eyes follow her as she walks out, and you feel something weighing on your heart.</p><p> </p><p>You catch up quickly with Marlene - she's walking slowly, maybe because of the big dress she's decided to put on her disguise. She looks a little better when you see her face again, but her eyes are still red and her cheeks a little bit shiny.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm taking you to the storage bay," she says, "that's where we've got your ship. The blue box. Once you can get in there, you're free to go. I'll cover your tracks for you, and make sure the Director doesn't see - she sees everything."</p><p> </p><p>"That's great," you say, and she offers you a shaky smile.</p><p> </p><p>"O-oh, it's no problem." She presses her hand against another panel. Again, it flashes green and opens - she peers inside the space, and the Doctor joins her.</p><p> </p><p>"It <em>is</em> repurposed," the Doctor mutters. He points his sonic at the wires and squints at the readings. "That's a lot of output for a repurposed mining ship. Does it take a lot of power to keep everyone alive?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes," Marlene answers. She moves to close the panel. "Okay, we're all set. No one's watching, let's go-"</p><p> </p><p>"Well, most of them are dead, so why do you still need the high output?" the Doctor asks. Something changes in his voice. "Gargontian technology doesn't need a lot of power to run simulations, and you're running assisted ones. And if we're the only ones left alive, that means you were only running one simulation. So why are you still using increased power?"</p><p> </p><p>For a moment, you reach out to stop him - Marlene's a little on edge, he's scaring her - but he turns to face you, and you finally see his eyes. The Doctor isn't intimidating her - far from it. You've seen this Doctor before. He's grilling her because he knows something she's hiding, and he wants to know if he's right or not. Marlene swallows.</p><p> </p><p>"We have to keep moving," she says quickly, and the Doctor sighs.</p><p> </p><p>"Do you not get it?" the Doctor says, waving around his sonic to prove a point. "We've been walking for at least thirty minutes, and, if your Director is really constantly watching, then we should have been caught by now."</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>"Very smart, 11A, very smart. I think I underestimated you."</strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Marlene nearly jumps out of her skin at the voice that echoes through the halls. "Ma'am!"</p><p> </p><p><strong>"Marlene,"</strong> the Director sighs<strong>. "What did I say about helping the subjects escape, hmm? We've been over this."</strong></p><p>
  
</p><p>Just as the Director finishes her sentence, the doors at the ends of the hallway slam shut with a terrible bang. The white lights that illuminated the whole place turn into an ominous red that makes everything seem like it's been bathed in blood.</p><p> </p><p>The Director's voice is low and soothing, if not for the fact that she was the one who trapped you here. <strong>"You're supposed to be helping me, dear. Why would you waste your chance? Be good, Marlene."</strong></p><p>
  
</p><p>A form flickers into view - tall and thin, with features almost wolfish. It must be the Director - her skin is tinged lavender, and her fingers are much too long to be human. Her smile is stretched wide over her face.</p><p> </p><p>“Not anymore.” Underneath the red lights, Marlene looks like a scorned princess - and when she raises her head, she wears the expression of one. She turns her head to face you and the Doctor, and takes a long look at the both of you, her expression morphing from fear to anger. "I'm doing it for love."</p><p> </p><p>She stomps toward the open panel and gestures towards the wires. She makes a pulling motion with her hands. "Help me?"</p><p> </p><p>You nod and reach in, wrapping your whole hand around the bundle of wires, and forcefully draw your arm back. The wires stretch and snap, leaving a gap of sparks in its place. The lights turn back into the safe, clinical white. The doors slide open gently, and Marlene brushes past the two of you.</p><p> </p><p>The Director keeps on talking as Marlene leads you through the hallways. <strong>"You could meet me,"</strong> she says, almost sounding bored. <strong>"I'm in the Central Hall. You could get answers."</strong></p><p>
  
</p><p>The Doctor raises his hand slightly, as if meaning to say, “me, I want answers,” but Marlene shoots him a glare so scathing he keeps his mouth shut.</p><p> </p><p>"Shut up," Marlene snaps. "They don't want answers, and never from you. Just let them go."</p><p> </p><p><strong>"Not a chance,"</strong> the Director says. <strong>"I promised my client sixteen times the detail, four times the size on this simulation, and you're just going to throw it away? I was nearly there."</strong></p><p> </p><p>"Sometimes, it doesn't just work." Marlene keeps her eyes forward. "We're nearly there. Just a few more doors until the storage bay, and then you're free."</p><p> </p><p><strong>"Do you really think it's that easy?"</strong> The doors slam shut again and the floor underneath you shudders. You reach out and grab at the wall for support as you feel the whole hallway start to move – the Doctor stumbles on his feet, flails around, and grabs your arm for support. You hear a grinding noise, like the room is travelling on rails, and the lights flicker above you.</p><p> </p><p>“Definitely repurposed,” the Doctor says, his eyes wide. “Rearrangeable hallways. I didn’t think about that.”</p><p> </p><p><strong>“I’m just right beyond that door,”</strong> the Director laughs. <strong>“Get ready for the big reveal.”</strong></p><p>
  
</p><p>The door slides open, and smoke rolls out into the hallway. The room inside is barely illuminated, save for one large window that shows the expanse of space. You can just make out the silhouette of a figure sitting cross-legged in a chair.</p><p> </p><p>“Not that big of a reveal, is it?” the Doctor calls out.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“Oh, I like you,” </strong>the Director croons, and then a bright light shines above her.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you always this dramatic or have you been saving that for us?” you call out. You hear a faint chuckle.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>“I liked you better as a housewife.”</strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>“Sorry, it was boring,” you shoot back. The Director’s smile grows wider.</p><p> </p><p><strong>“Marlene, come here, be good,” </strong>the Director says, crooking a finger in Marlene’s direction. Marlene walks forward robotically, just one foot in front of the other, but you can see her shaking slightly. <strong>“I didn’t know you were this good at lying. I didn’t even know you learned to lie.”</strong></p><p>
  
</p><p>The Director lifts up Marlene’s dress to show the device strapped to her thigh – and then she strikes it with a well-placed kick. Marlene’s form flickers, then shatters entirely. In her place is an almost exact replica of the Director, hunched over and wide-eyed, still holding on to the lower part of her body.</p><p> </p><p>You gasp, and Marlene curls into herself at the sound.</p><p> </p><p>“A perfect replica,” the Doctor says. “So what is she? A clone? A projection?”</p><p> </p><p><strong>“Why trust others with your work when you can ask yourself to do it?” </strong>The Director runs a hand down Marlene’s face. Marlene shivers, her eyes trained onto the floor. <strong>“I forget that Gargontian artificial intelligence is always learning. This one grew a conscience. This one learned empathy.”</strong></p><p>
  
</p><p>“Yeah, things that help you care for others,” you say loudly. “I guess you don’t have a lot of that, trapping people in their own minds.”</p><p> </p><p>The Director looks up at you. Her eyes are as cold as ice, and you shiver too. <strong>“I gave you what you wanted,” </strong>she starts, <strong>“I gave you the life you wanted with him.”</strong></p><p>
  
</p><p>“Not like that!” you cry out. The Doctor’s gone quiet beside you. “It was never like that.”</p><p> </p><p><strong>“Oh?” </strong>The Director raises a brow, still holding Marlene’s face in her hands. <strong>“Did you not want him to feel the same as you did? It was <em>your</em> dream. A simulation based on <em>your</em> mind. You <em>made</em> him feel the way you wanted, in the end. Isn’t that how it works, Marlene?”</strong></p><p>
  
</p><p>“Yes, ma’am,” Marlene whispers, her voice thin.</p><p> </p><p>Guilt feels like looking at Marlene’s tear-streaked face. Guilt feels like the Doctor’s silence beside you. You’ve already told him you loved him and now you’re scolding yourself again because he’s heard it a billion times before, hasn’t he? And none of the times he said it back were even real. You swallow, but keep your eyes trained on the Director. You open your mouth to retort, but before you can speak –</p><p> </p><p>“Actually, that was all me,” the Doctor says. You look at him, your eyes wide – he just shifts to stand closer to you. “Well, <em>mostly</em> me. Sans the being human bit. But I had a hand in that.”</p><p> </p><p>You can’t do anything but stare, and <em>stare</em>, and when he turns to glance at you for a moment, he lifts his lips in the barest hint of a smile, a comforting smile, before it’s gone in favor of a clenched jaw and fire in his eyes. “Now, let Marlene go, let us go, and we won’t cause you any trouble. I’m sure you’ll find business elsewhere.”</p><p> </p><p><strong>“Let Marlene go?”</strong> The Director barks out a laugh, lifting their gaze to the ceiling like a haughty rich woman. <strong>“How can I? I control her. She won’t try anything.”</strong></p><p>
  
</p><p>Marlene shudders, and then stills. She takes a deep breath in, growls and wrenches her face out of the Director’s grip. “But I can try <em>this</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>The lights go out. Long, thin fingers wrap around your wrists and pull you away, out of the room and away from the Director. You think you hear the Director screech, a long keening sound. The thin fingers on your wrists turn into short, more human ones – the lights flicker in again and Marlene, back to her red-headed, is standing in front of you. She’s gripping your wrist and the Doctor’s wrist, and she looks terrified.</p><p> </p><p>“There’s not much time. I’ll move the rooms, get you closer to the storage bay -” She lets go and lifts up her skirt to look at device on her calf – it’s sparking, and so is Marlene’s hands if you look close enough. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this. You have to run.”</p><p> </p><p>“We’re not leaving you here,” you protest.</p><p> </p><p>“I <em>can’t</em> leave.” Marlene’s face flickers between her human one and the Director’s face. “I want <em>you</em> <em>guys</em> to leave. Doctor, can you…” She thrusts her leg out at the Doctor, and the Doctor sonics the device. It stops sparking, and she nods at the Doctor.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a temporary fix, it won’t last for long,” the Doctor says. His eyes are shiny again. “Are you sure you want to do this?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, and that’s why you have to hurry.” Her form flickers again, and suddenly it’s like looking in a mirror – she looks exactly like you, down to the trail of blood running down your temple that’s drying now. She smiles at you, then nods at the Doctor. “Get out of here. I can distract the Director for a while. <em>Go.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Marlene, don’t-”</p><p> </p><p>“You said you could stay with someone forever and never have to stop moving – so <em>don’t stop moving</em>.” Marlene takes your hand in hers, and she smiles at you with your mouth but her eyes. “Good luck.”</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor grabs your hand and pulls you away gently – “Come on,” he says, softly, but you’re just looking at Marlene.</p><p> </p><p>“I haven’t thanked you enough,” you whisper.</p><p> </p><p>Marlene nods at you. “Just once was enough. Now <em>go</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>And so you <em>run</em>, because that’s what you do best. Marlene disappears behind you – you don’t even hear her run away, because you’re too busy listening to the way your feet thud against the metal floor and the blood rushing in your ears, roaring like an ocean. You let that ocean wipe away your tears, and you keep running, the Doctor’s hand in yours.</p><p> </p><p>Through it all, you manage a laugh. The running is what you’re used to, the thrill of the chase and the thrill of escape, and you laugh through it. The Doctor laughs too, and it’s a warm sound. It’s enough to make you forget that you’re running for your life and that you’ve just left someone behind.</p><p> </p><p>You don’t even notice the doors slide open in front of you. The TARDIS comes into view, blue and beautiful – the Doctor reaches out and snaps his fingers. The sound echoes, and the doors swing open, and you both fall into the TARDIS together, crashing into the floor holding each other’s hands.</p><p> </p><p>Relief still humming in your blood, you breathe out, “We’re out.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” the Doctor says quietly, “we are.”</p><p> </p><p><em>Are we going back to normal now? </em>That question goes unspoken, and unanswered.</p><p> </p><p>There’s a moment where the blood stops roaring in your ears, and you’re left cold. It all drains away from you. The excitement, the exhilaration, and all that’s left is that sadness. It leaves you in a single sigh, all of that emotion leaving in one breath, and <em>oh</em>, you’re so cold.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re shaking,” the Doctor murmurs. He lifts you into a sitting position and wraps his arms around you, rubbing your back in soothing motions that do nothing to ease the chill that’s settled into your heart. You try to ignore the way you can hear his breath stutter like he’s cold, too. “You’re alright, sweetheart. You’re alright. We’re home.”</p><p> </p><p>You believe him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Back to Normal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Everything is back to normal on the TARDIS... maybe.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Finally, we're here at the end of this fic! It's been super fun getting to revisit this fic and my love for Eleven, and writing this has been super fun too! Thanks so much everyone for enjoying this fic, and I hope you enjoy the final part!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"I promised you a beach trip, didn't I?"</p><p> </p><p>You squint at the metallic panel in front of you as saltwater sprays your face. It's set into the sand, its metal surface pristine and shiny despite all the water that must be covering it on a daily basis.</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor laughs and peers down at the panel. "Welcome to Helnypso! I do hope this place isn't abandoned."</p><p> </p><p>At the sound of his voice, the panel flickers to life with a display that reads Helnypso Resorts: Have a Whole Planet to Yourself.</p><p> </p><p><em>"Welcome to Helnypso,"</em> a tinny voice says. <em>"Identification, please?"</em></p><p> </p><p>You raise your eyebrows and turn to face the Doctor. "I don't think we ever made a reservation."</p><p> </p><p>"No, we didn't," The Doctor says. He fishes his sonic screwdriver and psychic paper out of his coat - he presses the psychic paper against the panel with one hand while he points the sonic screwdriver with the other. He grins at you with his "oh-I'm-so-impressive" face the whole time. "I think you'll find our credentials are all up to code. The Doctor and his companion."</p><p> </p><p><em>Companion.</em> You just smile back at him and hope that he doesn't notice your eyes. "That's me!"</p><p> </p><p>There's a slight pause, then a mechanical whirr as the panel processes your information - then the panel speaks again. <em>"Sir, I beg to differ."</em></p><p> </p><p>The Doctor pauses and frowns. "Excuse me?"</p><p> </p><p>The voice from the panel makes a strangled noise, then something like a cough. <em>"You say she's your companion, but here it says that she's… she's your wife."</em></p><p> </p><p>A heavy silence falls. All you hear is the sound of the waves crashing against the endless beach and your heartbeat beating loud and steady in your chest. You can't deny the shiver that goes up your spine at the word <em>wife</em>, and you can't tell whether it's a good shiver or a bad one.</p><p> </p><p>And the Doctor - his hair blowing in the breeze, his face a little damp from the spray of the ocean, is as unreadable as ever.</p><p> </p><p>"Well," the Doctor starts, glancing at you, "sorry. That's on me. Yes, she's my wife."</p><p> </p><p>He pockets the psychic paper before you can snatch it out of his hands and ask him about it.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>"Unpaid bills!" The Doctor laughs as he stumbles into the console room. "I'll admit, that's a first for me."</p><p> </p><p>You cough and run a hand through your hair, shaking the sand out - it falls onto the floor and starts making a small pile at your feet. "Why did you even agree on the Sweethearts Package if we weren't gonna pay for it?"</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor straightens and pats the front of his coat. Grains of sand flutter to the floor. "I can never resist a good discount."</p><p> </p><p>You shake your head and sigh, but you're smiling. "We can't go back there again."</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, they'd arrest us and I hear the death penalty is very popular in that system." The Doctor grimaces, claps his hands together, and bounds towards the console, already fiddling with the countless levers and buttons. His smile widens as the TARDIS sets off, the ship shaking slightly as it takes off of the planet. "Ah, it doesn't matter. There are better hotel planets. We could try Henestea, or Alreneth - absolutely beautiful places -  Henestea has treehouses, love a good treehouse -"</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Are we going back to normal now?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>You find the answer to that question watching the Doctor ramble on about different resort planets - to him, it seems to be a resounding <em>yes</em>. His voice fades into the background and you feel something looming above you, something heavy and crushing that you're not sure you can deal with right now. Not when the Doctor looks so happy.</p><p> </p><p>It's been non-stop since you escaped the Director - Helnypso was just the third stop in what you felt like was a long list of distractions. Time is arbitrary on a time machine, but you know it's been a while since then - a long while of running away. When the Doctor looks up at you, you plaster a smile on your face.</p><p> </p><p>"Uh, Doctor, I was thinking -" You clasp your hands together, resting them right where your traitorous heart is, and you smile because if you're smiling, he's not going to notice anything wrong. "You could pick where to go this time."</p><p> </p><p>"Well, you're a bundle of joy." He pouts. "It never turns out well when I pick."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah - I don't think it matters, though," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "You know, something always happens, and all that."</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor sighs, and nods his head towards a set of switches - you reach over and flick them up in rapid succession. The TARDIS stops shaking and stabilizes, probably drifting in space. "I suppose there is.”</p><p> </p><p>Whatever was hanging above has fallen - a heavy blanket of tension, a tension you haven't talked about properly for days since you escaped. The TARDIS has never felt so cold - or is it just you? The Doctor looks just fine. But you can never really tell with the Doctor.</p><p> </p><p>"I'll, uh -" Your voice cuts through the silence. "Get all this sand out, and then - maybe get some rest, while you decide."</p><p> </p><p>It comes through more like a question. The Doctor nods, and the light of the TARDIS shifts, suddenly a little bit darker. He moves to a different spot on the console, turning away from you. "Right. You humans and your sleep. Go ahead."</p><p> </p><p>The first step away from him feels like denial. The second step sparks a bit of anger in your heart, but by the third step you've pointed the anger away from him and right at yourself.</p><p> </p><p>"Okay," you manage, your voice small, and you think you see him take a deep breath in, and hold it. "I'll be back."</p><p> </p><p><em>Not soon</em>, you think as you walk out of the console room. You don't look back. You don't see that the Doctor does.</p><p> </p><p>You're still angry, practically fuming, by the time you've carried yourself into the TARDIS hallways. The lines between anger, guilt, and embarrassment have all blurred and are now mixing in you like the world's messiest cocktail - what were you thinking, believing that one strange adventure would change anything between you?</p><p> </p><p>It isn't until the fifth minute of walking that you realize you haven't found a door yet. The TARDIS hallways are massive and endless, always leading to different places, never predictable. It made going from one room to another fun, usually - but you had been walking for five minutes, doing nothing but wallowing in your own feelings.</p><p> </p><p>"Look, I just want to sleep, okay?" you call out. The TARDIS had a mind of her own, and she could be quite snappy if she wanted to. "Can you please put my room a <em>little</em> bit closer?"</p><p> </p><p>Your voice echoes throughout the hallway - the only response you get is the faint humming of the TARDIS. You sigh and squeeze your eyes shut.</p><p> </p><p>"What, are you mad at me?" You walk a little bit further, wrapping your arms around yourself. The TARDIS still feels cold, and you're still in clothes ready for a beach planet. "Look, I haven't upset the Doctor, if that's what you're worried about."</p><p> </p><p>Or had you? Again, you could never really tell with the Doctor - sure, he had his moments, moments of happiness, anger, and sadness, but within the confines of the TARDIS you rarely saw those things at all. He was always somewhere else, fiddling with the console, keeping himself busy.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe you had upset him and he just wasn't saying anything about it. But the Doctor would let you know if he was cross with you, he always had. If he really was upset, what made this time any different from the others?</p><p> </p><p>You groan inwardly.</p><p> </p><p>Lost in your thoughts, you don't notice that the hallway has shortened in front of you. You stop and look up - in front of you is a set of big wooden doors. They look worn with age and behind them you can hear the sound of a fireplace crackling.</p><p> </p><p>"Where have you led me now?" you ask. The TARDIS still doesn't respond, but you feel a little better - curiosity is a better feeling than anger. You press your hands against the wood and trace its surface.</p><p> </p><p>You're not prepared for what you see when you gently push open the doors. You see books, shelves and shelves of books that seem to go on for miles. Tables piled high with books and papers, some empty and some full of scribbles written in alphabets that you don't recognize. Your gaze keeps travelling upwards, and the bookshelves just keep on going higher, staircases and ladders spiraling higher and higher into the air.</p><p> </p><p>So this was it then - the legendary TARDIS library. A whoosh of breath escapes you. You'd only heard of it in passing, and now that you were finally here it felt like stepping into the TARDIS for the first time. I hope you're not too jealous about that, you think, hoping the TARDIS can hear you.</p><p> </p><p>The room's warm, and it smells amazing. You wander through the room, tracing the spines of books and marveling at just how many there are - the books are in different shapes and sizes, some of them thicker than three pillows stacked together and some of them as thin as a single sheet of paper.</p><p> </p><p>The lights get dimmer and dimmer as you continue to walk. You feel like you're being drawn to something - when you stop at a random shelf to look at the titles something tells you to keep walking, and so you do.</p><p> </p><p>The shelves open up into what can only be described as a "reading spot". There are a few desks strewn around, but at the front of the space is a crackling fireplace, surrounded by several comfy-looking chairs.</p><p> </p><p>The whole place feels closed off, separate from the rest of the library. You walk up to the bookshelves, finding them covered in a thin layer of dust. Whatever this part of the library is, the Doctor hasn't been here in years. Your curiosity only builds, and you pick out a random book.</p><p> </p><p>One glance at the cover is enough to make you snort. It's one of those cringey romance novels, with the shirtless buff men and fainting ladies painted on the covers. <em>"Forbidden Orbits",</em> it reads on the front, in the same gilded font that these kinds of novels always seem to use.</p><p> </p><p>The book opens with much resistance - it hasn't been opened in a while, and its pages are yellowed, and you can spot dog-ear folds every few pages. You raise your eyebrows, though, by the end of the book - its last page is still there, miraculously intact.</p><p> </p><p>It dates the book to a time before the Doctor ripped out the final pages of books, and as far as you knew, he had always been doing that. The Doctor didn't seem like the type to read fluffy romance novels, but perhaps another Doctor had been.</p><p> </p><p>You skim through the rest of the books close to it and they all seem to be in the same category. You stifle another laugh with your hand.</p><p> </p><p>You carry the book with you and settle yourself into one of the comfy chairs. It almost swallows you - you sink right into the plush thing, and you choke out a laugh. But you're comfortable, so you flip the book back to its very first page and start reading.</p><p> </p><p>You don't mean to start falling asleep. You really don't. But the warmth of the fireplace, the faint hum of the TARDIS, and how incredibly comfy this chair combined is enough to make your eyelids grow heavy. You slip into a dreamless sleep, <em>"Forbidden Orbits"</em> still open in your lap.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>The TARDIS puts the library a little closer for the Doctor.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>He's not good at waiting. He's never been good at waiting. In fact, if there was a list of things he wasn't good at, waiting would be at the very top. And when he waits, the Doctor notices things. So the Doctor notices that you've been gone for a little too long, and he starts to worry. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Now that, he's good at. Worrying about you, especially. He practically runs out of the console room and the first door he sees are the doors of the TARDIS library. The doors open for him without even a creak, and when the Doctor steps in he notices a little sound.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>He follows the sound, and when the lights start to get dimmer and the ceiling starts to get lower he starts to worry again, but for an entirely different reason. He's told the TARDIS to put that old wing of the library far away - old shame, he calls it, stuff that he'd never admit he enjoyed at the time - and if you've found it, he's in for a full day of teasing that he can't handle. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>He peeks from behind a shelf and a weight lifts off his hearts - the sound is just the sound of your soft breaths, and you're fast asleep. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>The Doctor's never walked this quietly before. He walks up to your sleeping form, sprawled out on a chair, and he feels an unexplainable fondness fill his hearts. He reaches out, gingerly, and brushes your hair away from your face. His hand catches on your temple, where you've haphazardly placed a bandage over the wound left by the simulation, and he frowns. Did he never get a good look at that? </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>The Doctor's gaze travels down, to your lap, and his face burns. "Forbidden Orbits" lays open in your lap, on the twentieth page. He snatches it up and throws it back into the bookshelf, where it belongs. </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>"Hey..."</p><p> </p><p>You groan and squeeze your eyes shut, clumsy fingers grabbing at whatever's trying to disturb your precious sleep. The crackling of the fireplace has died down, and you shift in your seat. Your brain is protesting, but your mouth hasn't quite caught up yet, so all you can do is mumble disjointedly and hope that your message is clear: "Please don't wake me up yet."</p><p> </p><p>You were having such a nice dream too - the events of the dream are hazy now, and when you try to grab at them they blow away into nothingness. But the dream's left a warm, fuzzy feeling in your heart.</p><p> </p><p>You hear an amused huff, and feel a hand cup your cheek. You melt into the touch, a satisfied noise finding its way out of your mouth, and you smile. "Good dreams?"</p><p> </p><p>You hum in reply. There's another amused huff, and a thumb starts to gently rub your cheek. "You need to wake up now, I've got to take a look at you."</p><p> </p><p>"Don't wanna," you mumble, still trying to hold on to that warm and fuzzy feeling. You're still so comfortable, nestled in the soft fabric of your chair, and you really never want to leave. "Comfy. Tired."</p><p> </p><p>"I know." The hand on your cheek disappears, and the skin of your face feels cold. "That's my fault, a little bit. But come on, I gotta move you. It's easier if you're awake."</p><p> </p><p>You open your eyes and peek up through your eyelashes - your vision clears, and you see the Doctor kneeling in front of you.</p><p> </p><p>He smiles at you, gently, and it's brilliant. He looks a little flustered, his hair messy like he's been running his hands through it, but he's never looked better. You smile dopily at him, still a little bit sleep-addled, and he laughs softly. "Hey, sleepyhead," he says, and all you can think is that you could never get tired of looking at him.</p><p> </p><p>"Hey," you mumble, pushing yourself upright with your elbows. "Sorry. It's just so comfy here, I just drifted off..."</p><p> </p><p>"I don't blame you." The Doctor looks around, his smile growing wider. "It's a wonderful place to take a nap in."</p><p> </p><p>Your hands fall into your lap, and it's - empty… You raise an eyebrow. "Hang on, where's the book I was reading...? What was the title again? <em>Forbidden</em> -"</p><p> </p><p>You look up at the Doctor and he sputters, flushing a bright red. He hushes you before you can get the whole title out, raising his hands to cover your mouth - you catch his hands in yours, laughing.</p><p> </p><p>"You weren't meant to see that," he stutters, "or this entire wing. I thought I told the TARDIS to seal this up - did she put you up to this? Maybe I can find a way to jettison this entire area off the ship -"</p><p> </p><p>"It's fine," you say, still laughing. The Doctor doesn't look calmed by that, his eyes still wide and frantic. It's fun seeing the Doctor all ruffled. "Your secret is safe with me."</p><p> </p><p>"And it should stay that way," the Doctor huffs. He pries his hands out of yours, sticking them in his coat. Then, a little louder, "Anyway, I said I was going to take a look at you, so here I am."</p><p> </p><p>"Why?"</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor raises his eyebrows and nods at you, pulling out a bottle of liquid and a patch of cloth. "Your temple's still hurt."</p><p> </p><p>Your reach up and touch the plaster - you'd thrown it on just before the Doctor dragged you to Helnypso - and you wince.</p><p> </p><p>"Trust me," the Doctor says, uncapping the bottle and pouring it onto the cloth, "I'm a doctor."</p><p> </p><p>"Thought you were the Doctor," you say, and the Doctor laughs.</p><p> </p><p>"I am!" He puts the cap back on the bottle and stuffs it back into his coat. His coat has to be bigger on the inside too. "I've got the title, I should put it to good use. I'll take off the plaster now, alright?"</p><p> </p><p>It doesn't feel right under there, and dread settles into the bottom of your stomach at the thought of taking it off. The Doctor reaches over and pats your knee, giving you another patient smile.</p><p> </p><p>"You'll be fine," he says, "won't hurt a bit."</p><p> </p><p>Carefully, he reaches over and peels the plaster off - it stings, but not enough to really hurt. When the whole thing comes off, the Doctor makes a face at it and sets it to the side, hopefully to be thrown away later.</p><p> </p><p>"Right, turn your face to the side for me, please?"</p><p> </p><p>You follow, and the Doctor reaches out with the wet cloth. It smells a lot like alcohol, and alcohol on a wound means a lot of pain - you shrink back a little. "What is it?"</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, this?" The Doctor pulls back and brings the cloth to his nose, cringing at the smell. "Just a disinfectant. It should clean your wound up nicely, get rid of anything that might be hiding in there. Don't worry."</p><p> </p><p>You try not to worry as the Doctor reaches out again and presses the cloth onto your temple. It feels like ice against your skin, but there isn't any pain. You let yourself relax, your shoulders dropping, and you let out the breath you didn't know you were holding.</p><p> </p><p>"Did I mention it's got nanobots in it?" the Doctor says nonchalantly, still pressing the cloth against your temple. As he says that, your wound starts to tingle, like little sparks of static electricity. "Little robots stitching your skin up for you. Like a mini-construction team, except for your body. I got it as a gift from some interstellar nurses, I never did give them anything back..."</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor peels the cloth off of your temple and sticks his hand in his coat again, this time pulling out a thin bandage. He presses it against your skin, and you feel it harden and grow taut, almost pulling at your skin.</p><p> </p><p>"And an Instant Bandage. From the same nurses, too. Revolutionary, the lot of them." The Doctor leans away, clapping his hands together. He's got his "oh-I'm-so-impressive" face on again, and you have to admit - you are impressed. "Well?"</p><p> </p><p>"Well," you echo. You can't really find any words, and the Doctor takes it as a compliment. "Thanks."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, it's nothing." The Doctor smooths the bandage out. His hand lingers on your skin for just a second before he pulls away, dropping his hands to his sides. "I'm just looking out for you."</p><p> </p><p>"Still - thank you," you say, and you don't miss the way the Doctor's eyes crinkle in a tiny smile. "Really."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah," the Doctor says quietly, and you settle into another silence, this one more comfortable than the last. There's still a tension in the air, but it isn't so thick anymore, driven away by the coziness of the fireplace. You can feel the Doctor's eyes on you, even when you glance away.</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor's voice breaks the silence, soft but sudden. "You're very loud."</p><p> </p><p>"What's that supposed to mean?"</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor startles, his eyes widening. "Sorry, sorry - it's just -" he stammers, blinking quickly, "-your thoughts, they're very loud sometimes."</p><p> </p><p>You can't stop the flicker of panic that jump-starts your heart into overdrive. "You - could hear what I was thinking?"</p><p> </p><p>"I swear, I didn't mean to!" the Doctor says quickly, holding up his hands, "I promised I wasn't going to go looking where I wasn't supposed to. I did. And for that I am so sorry."</p><p> </p><p>Curiosity overwhelms your fear for a second - "What did you hear?" you ask, before you can stop yourself.</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor stares at you, big green eyes still wide with apprehension. His mouth sets into a hard line. "Something about going back to normal," he says, his voice low.</p><p> </p><p>I didn't even know I was still thinking about that. You frown, your chest growing heavy with the weight of - what is it? Guilt? Sadness? Embarrassment? All three? Your heart's still a mess, and the Doctor's stuck himself in there and mixed everything up.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah," you say, pursing your lips in an awkward smile. "I was thinking about that. It's nothing."</p><p> </p><p>"It can't be nothing," The Doctor insists. He's closer to you now, resting his hands on the arms of the chair. "I -" His voice breaks off, and he looks up, almost frustrated. "I care about you, and so whatever you're feeling can't be nothing."</p><p> </p><p>Now, the caring bit isn't a surprise. The Doctor has always cared for you, even when it had only been hours since you'd met. What's surprising is the conviction in his voice, the way he says it like a promise, and how much it sounds like -</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor raises his hand to brush his thumb against your temple, his touch trailing down until his hand cups your cheek. "All of that," he says, "everything that happened. I could take it away, and we'd be back to normal. If that's what you want."</p><p> </p><p>A reset. "No," you blurt out, meeting the Doctor's eyes. "No, that's not what I want."</p><p> </p><p>"What do you want, then?" the Doctor asks, his voice barely above a whisper.</p><p> </p><p>Behind him, the fireplace roars, and so does something in your heart. "Don't you know?"</p><p> </p><p>Something flickers across the Doctor's face - a shadow, an emotion you can't catch. “Don’t lie.”</p><p> </p><p>“I'm not lying," you say. You stare at him, lifting your own hands to wrap around his wrist. "And if I was, you'd know."</p><p> </p><p>You're trembling as your fingers curl around his wrist, your heart beating at a million miles per hour, loud enough to have it thumping in your ears. Slowly, you drag the Doctor's hand down until it reaches your mouth, and then - an echo - you squeeze your eyes shut and press your lips to the inside of his palm.</p><p> </p><p>"I meant what I said," you whisper against his skin, "on the ship. I wasn't lying."</p><p> </p><p>"You weren't," the Doctor says. His voice shakes a little.</p><p> </p><p>You open your eyes to look at him, and you counter his watery gaze with your own. The Doctor blinks, gently pulling his hand out of your grasp only to wipe away a tear. "Don't cry," he says.</p><p> </p><p>"M'not crying," you sniffle, managing a smile. "Sorry."</p><p> </p><p>"No, none of that," the Doctor chides. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead - then, lower, pressing a kiss to your cheek, right underneath your eye, like trying to wipe away tears. The Doctor's lips brush against the corner of your mouth and you shudder.</p><p> </p><p>"None of that," he says again, his breath warm against your face. He peers at you, raising his eyebrows in a silent question.</p><p> </p><p>You nod slowly - you've never been so sure about anything in your life, not since the day you decided to run away and join the Doctor among the stars - and the Doctor leans in and captures your lips with his.</p><p> </p><p>It feels real and is real this time, and you savor every second of it. The Doctor cups his face in your hands as he kisses you, drawing you even closer to him, and drowning is nothing compared to this, you think. He breaks the kiss for a second, making a wordless noise of satisfaction, and when he kisses you again you can feel him smiling.</p><p> </p><p>You're both breathless when you pull away. The Doctor's grinning widely, still holding your face in his hands.</p><p> </p><p>"My hearts," he murmurs, "both of them yours."</p><p> </p><p>"Well, my one heart pales in comparison to your two, doesn't it?" you ask, and the Doctor laughs again. "Don't worry. It's still yours."</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor hums in reply. Then, softly, like a promise: "I love you."</p><p> </p><p>You feel your heart swell, and when you breathe out you feel like a weight's been lifted from your shoulders. This, this is what you wanted all along - you let a smile spread across your face. It isn't a dream anymore, or an act. "I love you too. But you know that, don't you?"</p><p> </p><p>He laughs and presses his forehead against yours. "Can I kiss you again?"</p><p> </p><p>You wrap your hands around his suspenders and tug him closer – you never have to pretend again. "You never have to ask."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“You know, I do think Mrs. Doctor <em>does</em> have a nice ring to it.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Doctor!”</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Credit to <a href="kisstherainwriting.tumblr.com">@kisstherainwriting</a> on Tumblr for "Forbidden Orbits", the Doctor's favorite romance novel. Used to be his favorite romance novel. Haha. </p><p>Thank you so much everyone for reading and enjoying this fic! Have a great day/night wherever you are, and I love you all!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! Have a good day/night, wherever you are!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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